THE   CAR  OF   DESTINY 


OTHER    BOOKS 
BY    THE    SAME    AUTHORS 


r 


Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water, 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur, 

The  Princess  Virginia, 

etc. 


LADY    MONICA 


THE 

CAR    OF    DESTINY 


BY 


C.    N.    AND    A.    M.    WILLIAMSON 


Illustrations  by  Armand  Both 


NEW    YORK 

THE     McCLURE    COMPANY 
M  C  M  V 1 1 


Copyright,  1907,  by  The  McClure  Company 


Copyright,  190«,  by  McClure,  Phillips  &  Co. 


To 

Dona  Maria  del  Pilar  Harvey, 
We  Dedicate  This  Spanish  Story 

C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 


20P1 G85 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I  THE    KING'S   CAR  3 

II  THE    GIRL  9 

III  THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  Nor  ASKED  17 

IV  "  I  DON'T  THREATEN  —  I  WARN  "  27 

V  A  MYSTERY  CONCERNING  A  CHAUFFEUR  31 

VI  PUZZLE:   FIND  THE  CAR  36 

VII  THE  IMPRUDENCE  OF  SHOWING  A  HANDKER- 
CHIEF 42 

VIII  OVER  THE  BORDER  50 

IX  A  STERN  CHASE  55 

X  THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  Miss  O'DONNEL  62 

XI  MARIA  DEL  PILAR  TO  THE  RESCUE  72 

XII  UNDER  A  BALCONY  78 

XIII  WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL  81 

XIV  SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S  91 
XV  How  THE  DUKE  CHANGED  101 

XVI  A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S  111 

XVII  LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  121 

XVIII  THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  PILAR  130 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX  A  PARCEL  FOR  LIEUTENANT  O'DONNEL  136 

XX  THE  MAGIC  WORD  140 

XXI  THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  148 

XXII  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK  159 

XXIII  THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  174 

XXIV  THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  186 

XXV  WHAT  CORDOBA  LACKED  201 

XXVI  IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  208 
XXVII  MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDENS  218 

XXVIII  LET  YOUR  HEART  SPEAK  228 

XXIX  THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES  232 

XXX  THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS  246 

XXXI  BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING  255 

XXXII  ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  264 

XXXIII  THE  SEVEN  MEN  OF  ECIJA  275 

XXIV  THE  RACE  283 

XXXV  THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  290 

XXXVI  WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  302 

XXXVII  DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  314 

XXXVIII  THE  FOUNTAIN  324 

XXXIX  "DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW"  331 

XL  THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  341 

XLI  THE  FIFTH  BULL;  AND  AFTER  349 


THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 


I 

THE   KING'S   CAR 

OTOR  to  Biarritz  ?  You  must  be  mad,"  said  Dick 
Waring. 

"  Why  ?  "  I  asked ;  though  I  knew  why  as  well 
as  he.  "  A  nice  way  to  receive  an  invitation." 

"  If  you  must  know,  it's  because  the  King  of  Spain  will  be  there, 
visiting  his  English  fiancee,"  Dick  answered. 

"  I  wish  him  happiness,"  said  I.  "  I  hear  he's  a  fine  young  fel- 
low. Why  isn't  there  room  in  Biarritz  for  the  King  and  for  me  ?  " 

"  The  detectives  won't  think  there  is,  nor  will  they  give  you 
credit  for  your  generous  sentiments,"  said  Dick. 

"  They  won't  know  I'm  there." 

"  They  knew  when  you  went  to  Barcelona,  from  Marseilles." 

This  was  a  sore  subject.  It  is  not  my  fault  that  my  father  was 
as  recklessly  brave  a  general,  and  as  obstinately  determined  a 
partisan  as  Don  Carlos  ever  had.  If  I  had  been  born  in  those  days, 
it  is  possible  that  I  should  have  done  as  my  father  did ;  but  I  was 
not  born,  and  therefore  not  responsible.  Nor  was  it  the  King's 
fault  that  we  lost  our  estates  which  my  ancestors  owned  in  the 
days  of  Charles  V;  nor  that  we  lost  our  fortune,  we  Casa  Tri- 
anas ;  nor  that  my  father  was  banished  from  Spain.  For  the  King 
was  not  born,  therefore  he  was  not  responsible;  so  why  should  I 
blame  him  for  anything  that  has  happened  to  me  ? 

It  was  perhaps  ill-judged  to  visit  my  father's  land,  since  to 
him  it  had  been  a  land  forbidden.  But  a  few  months  after  his 
death,  when  I  was  twenty-one,  the  longing  to  see  Spain  had  be- 
come an  obsession.  And  it  must  have  been  my  evil  star  which 

3 


4  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

influenced  an  anarchist  to  throw  a  bomb  at  a  royal  personage  on 
the  very  day  I  arrived  at  Barcelona,  thinly  "disguised"  under 
an  English  name. 

My  identity  was  discovered  at  once,  as  the  son  of  the  great  dead 
Carlist.  I  was  suspected  and  clapped  into  a  cell,  to  wait  until  my 
innocence  could  be  proved.  This  was  not  easy;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  was  no  proof  against  me;  and  after  an  experience 
which  scourged  my  pride  and  emptied  my  purse,  I  was  released, 
only  to  be  politely  but  firmly  advised  never  again  to  show  the 
undesirable  face  of  a  Casa  Triana  in  Spain. 

It  was  after  this  that  I  flung  myself  off  to  Russia,  and  through 
friendly  influence  got  a  commission  in  the  army.  I  had  some  ad- 
ventures in  the  Boxer  rising ;  and  though  Heaven  knows  I  have 
no  grudge  against  the  Japanese,  the  fight  I  made  later  on  the 
Russian  side  gave  me  something  to  do  for  two  years.  After  the 
Peace  with  Idleness,  came  the  motor  mania,  and  I  thought  of 
nothing  else  for  a  time.  But  when  you  have  run  your  car  for 
months,  motoring  for  its  own  sake  ceases  to  be  all  in  all.  You  ask 
yourself  what  country  you  would  like  best  to  visit  with  the  ma- 
chine you  love. 

Pride  kept  me  from  answering  that  question  with  the  name  of 
"  Spain  " ;  but  it  was  because  Biarritz  is  at  the  door  of  Spain  that 
I  had  just  invited  Dick  Waring  —  the  best  of  friends,  the  most 
delightful  of  Americans,  who  fought  side  by  side  with  me,  for 
fun,  in  China  —  to  drive  there  in  my  Gloria  car. 

"Yes,  they  knew  when  I  went  to  Barcelona,"  I  admitted;  for 
Dick  was  familiar  with  the  story.  "  But  that  was  different.  Any- 
how, I'm  going  to  Biarritz,  whatever  happens.  You  can  do  as 
you  like." 

"If  you  will  go,  I'll  go  too,"  said  Dick  ;  "and  if  anything 
happens  I'll  be  in  it  with  you.  But  you  may  regret  your 
rashness." 

"  I've  never  yet  regretted  rashness,"  I  said.  '*  Things  done  on 
impulse  always  turn  out  for  the  best." 

So  we  started  from  Paris  the  next  day,  and  had  a  splendid  run, 


THE  KING'S  CAR  5 

through  scenery  to  set  the  spirit  singing  in  tune  with  the  thrum- 
ming of  the  motor. 

Whatever  was  to  happen  in  Biarritz,  and  I  was  far  enough 
from  guessing  then,  nothing  happened  by  the  way;  and  we  arriv- 
ed on  a  morning  of  blue  and  gold. 

We  put  up  at  a  private  hotel  out  of  the  way  from  fashionable 
thoroughfares ;  and,  as  my  childhood  and  early  youth  were  passed 
in  England,  I  could  use  an  English  name  without  making  myself 
ridiculous  by  a  foreign  accent.  As  for  my  brown  face  and  black 
eyes,  many  a  Cornishman  has  a  face  as  brown  and  eyes  as  black ; 
therefore,  I  edited  the  name  of  Triana  into  Cornish  Trevenna, 
and  qhanged  Cristobal,  my  middle  name,  into  Christopher. 

We  took  our  first  meal  in  the  restaurant,  and  everyone  at  the 
little  tables  near  by,  was  talking  of  the  King  and  "  Princess  Ena  " ; 
how  pretty  she  was,  how  much  in  love  he;  how  charming  their 
romance.  My  heart  quite  warmed  to  my  youthful  sovereign,  who 
has  had  seven  fewer  years  on  earth  than  1. 1  felt  that,  if  I  had  had 
a  fair  chance,  I  should  have  been  his  loyal  subject. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  him,"  said  I  to  Waring  after  lunch. 
"  The  lady  with  the  nose  who  sat  on  our  left  said  to  her  husband 
with  the  chin,  that  the  King  and  the  two  Princesses  motor  every 
afternoon.  We'll  motor  too;  and  where  they  go,  there  we'll  go 
also." 

"Take  care,"  said  Dick. 

"  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king.  So  may  Chris  Trevenna." 

"  No  good  advising  you  to  be  cautious." 

"  Of  course  not.  You  wouldn't  care  a  rap  for  me  if  there  was." 

"  Shouldn't  I  ?  Anyhow,  Chris  Trevenna  might  as  well  wear 
goggles." 

"  There's  no  dust  to-day,"  said  I.  "  It  rained  in  the  night." 

"  I  give  you  up,"  said  Dick.  And  if  giving  me  up  meant  going 
out  with  me  in  my  big  blue  car  directly  after  lunch,  then  he  kept 
his  word.  Ropes,  my  chauffeur,  and  right-hand  man,  who  sits 
always  in  the  tonneau,  had  already  heard  all  about  the  King's 
automobile,  and  was  primed  with  particulars.  He  leaned  across 


6  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

to  describe  its  appearance,  as  well  as  mention  the  make ;  and  when 
such  a  car  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  picturing  passed  us,  going 
round  a  bend  of  the  road  which  leads  to  Spain,  there  was  no  mis- 
taking it. 

"Let's  follow,"  said  I. 

Dick  sighed,  but  naturally  I  paid  no  attention  to  that. 

There  were  five  persons  in  the  King's  car.  The  slim  young 
owner,  three  ladies,  two  very  slender  and  young,  and  the  chauf- 
feur, all  five  masked  or  goggled,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  see 
their  faces. 

"I  wish  something  would  happen  to  them,"  I  said. 

Waring  looked  shocked. 

"  Just  enough  of  a  something  to  stop  the  car,  and  tempt  the 
ladies  to  take  off  their  motor-veils.  I  may  never  have  another 
chance  to  see  the  future  Queen  of  Spain." 

When  I  was  a  small  lad  in  England,  I  used  to  lie  under 
a  favourite  apple-tree  in  the  orchard  of  the  old  place  where  we 
lived,  and  wish  with  all  my  might  for  the  fall  of  a  certain  apple 
on  which  eyes  and  heart  were  fixed.  It  was  extraordinary  how 
often  the  apple  would  fall. 

In  a  flash  I  remembered  those  wishes  and  those  apples  as  we 
began  to  gain  upon  the  King's  car.  Its  pace  slackened,  and  then 
it  stopped.  The  chauffeur  jumped  out,  and  two  of  the  ladies  were 
raising  their  thick  veils  as  we  came  up. 

As  we  were  not  supposed  to  know  the  King,  who  was  "  incog," 
the  ordinary  civilities  between  motorists  were  in  order.  I  slowed 
down,  and  taking  off  my  hat,  inquired  in  French  if  there  were 
anything  I  could  do. 

The  two  girls,  who  had  hastily  whipped  off  their  veils,  turned 
and  glanced  at  me.  Both  were  more  than  pretty;  blond,  violet- 
eyed,  with  radiant  complexions ;  but  one  seemed  to  me  beautiful 
as  the  Blessed  Damozel  looking  down  from  the  star-framed  win- 
dow of  heaven;  and  I  was  suddenly  sick  with  jealously  of  the 
King,  because  I  believed  that  she  was  his  Princess. 

It  was  he  who  answered,  in  French  better  than  mine.  He  thank- 


THE  KING'S  CAR  7 

ed  me  for  my  kind  offer,  and  referred  me  to  his  chauffeur,  who 
had  not  yet  discovered  the  cause  of  the  car's  sudden  loss  of  power. 
But  even  as  he  spoke,  the  mystery  was  solved.  There  was  a  leak 
in  the  petrol-tank,  near  the  bottom ;  the  last  drop  of  essence  had 
run  away,  and,  as  they  had  come  out  for  a  short  spin,  there  was 
none  in  reserve. 

An  odd  chance  it  seemed  that  brought  me,  the  son  of  a  ban- 
ished rebel,  to  the  King's  aid ;  but  life  is  odd.  I  rejoiced  because 
it  was  odd,  and  more  because  of  the  girl. 

I  had  a  spare  bidon  of  petrol  which,  with  conventional  expres- 
sions of  pleasure,  I  gave  to  my  fellow  motorist.  We  exchanged 
compliments,  and  as  nobody  stared  at  me  askance,  I  had  reason  to 
believe  that  neither  words,  actions,  nor  looks  were  out  of  the  way. 
Yet  what  I  said  and  did  was  said  and  done  with  no  more  guidance 
of  the  mind  than  the  gestures  and  speech  of  a  mechanical  doll. 

I  was  conscious  only  of  the  girl's  eyes,  for  I  had  done  that  un- 
reasonable, indefinable  thing  —  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight,  and  I 
had  fallen  very  far,  and  very  deep.  She  did  not  glance  at  me  often, 
and  after  the  first  I  scarcely  glanced  at  her  at  all,  lest  my  eyes 
should  be  indiscreet.  It  was  the  most  curious  thing  in  the  world, 
and  far  beyond  anything  that  had  ever  happened  to  me;  but 
already  I  knew  that  I  could  not  lose  her  out  of  my  life.  Sooner 
could  I  lose  life  itself.  If  she  were  the  Princess  who  was  to  be 
Queen  of  Spain,  I  would  follow  her  to  Madrid,  come  what 
might,  just  for  the  joy  of  breathing  the  air  she  breathed,  of  seeing 
her  drive  past  me  in  her  carriage  sometimes.  I  had  wondered, 
knowing  the  traditions  of  our  family,  many  of  them  tragic, 
when  love  would  come  to  me.  Now  it  had  come  quickly,  in  a 
moment;  but  not  to  go  as  it  had  come.  It  and  I  would  be  one, 
for  always.  The  girl  was  little  more  than  a  child,  but  I  knew  she 
was  to  be  Jie  one  woman  for  me;  and  that  was  what  I  feared 
my  eyes  might  tell  her.  So  I  would  not  look;  yet  the  air  seemed 
charged  with  electricity  to  flash  a  thousand  messages,  and  my 
blood  tingled  with  the  assurance  that  she  had  had  my  message, 
that  unconsciously  she  was  sending  back  a  message  to  me. 


8  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

All  this  was  going  on  in  my  inner  self,  while  the  outer  husk  of 
self  delivered  itself  of  conventional  things. 

A  leak  was  mended,  a  tank  filled,  while  my  life  was  being  re- 
made. Then  there  were  bows,  lifting  of  caps,  many  politenesses, 
and  the  King's  car  shot  away. 

'*  What's  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  Waring  by  and  by. 

"  Nothing,"  I  answered.  "  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  You  act  as  if  you'd  had  a  stroke.  Aren't  you  going  to  drive 
on?" 

"  No.  Yes.  I'm  going  back,"  I  said,  and  turned  the  car. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  follow,  then  ?  " 

"There's  something  I  need  to  do  at  once  at  Biarritz,"  I  an- 
swered. It  was  true.  I  needed  to  find  out  whether  she  was  the 
Princess,  or  —  just  a  girl. 


n 

THE  GIRL 

IT  was  easy  to  learn  that  she  was  not  the  Princess.  I  did  that 
by  going  into  a  stationer's  shop  and  asking  for  a  photo- 
graph of  the  royal  lovers.  It  was  not  quite  so  easy  to 
find  out  who  she  was,  without  pinning  my  new  secret  on 
my  sleeve;  but  luckily  everyone  in  Biarritz  boasted  knowledge  of 
the  King's  affairs,  and  the  affairs  of  the  pretty  Princess.  Christo- 
pher Trevenna  made  himself  agreeable  after  dinner  to  the  lady 
with  the  nose,  who  would  probably  have  shrunk  away  in  fear  if 
she  had  known  that  she  was  talking  with  the  Marques  de  Casa 
Triana. 

I,  in  my  character  of  Trevenna,  found  out  that  the  Princess 
had  a  friend,  Lady  Monica  Vale,  daughter  of  the  widowed 
Countess  of  Vale-Avon,  who,  when  at  home,  lived  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  At  present,  the  two  were  staying  at  Biarritz,  in  a  villa; 
and  Lady  Monica,  a  girl  of  eighteen  or  nineteen,  sometimes  had 
the  honour  of  going  out  with  the  Princesses,  in  the  King's  motor. 

There  were  other  privileged  friends  as  well ;  but  the  description 
of  Lady  Monica  Vale,  though  painted  with  a  colourless  brush, 
was  unmistakable. 

Casually  I  inquired  the  name  of  the  house  where  Lady  Vale- 
Avon  and  her  daughter  were  staying,  and  having  learned  it,  I 
made  an  excuse  to  escape  from  the  lady  with  the  nose. 

It  was  half-past  ten  o'clock,  and  a  night  flooded  with  moon- 
light. I  strolled  out,  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  in  ten  minutes  stood 
before  the  garden  gate  of  the  Villa  Esmeralda. 

There  were  lights  in  three  or  four  of  the  windows,  sparkling 

9 


10  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

among  close-growing  trees;  and  I  had  not  finished  my  second 
cigarette,  when  a  carriage  drove  round  the  corner  and  stopped. 

I  moved  into  the  background.  A  groom  jumped  down,  un- 
fastened the  gate,  and  having  opened  the  brougham  door,  re- 
spectfully aided  a  middle-aged  lady  to  descend. 

The  moonlight  showed  me  a  clear,  proud  profile,  and  fired  the 
diamonds  in  a  tiara  which  crowned  a  head  of  waved  grey  hair. 

There  were  billows  of  violet  satin  and  lace  to  keep  off  the 
ground ;  and  as  the  groom  helped  the  wearer  to  adjust  them  under 
her  chinchilla  coat,  a  girl  sprang  out  of  the  carriage,  her  white 
figure  and  rippling  hair  of  daffodil  gold  in  full  moonlight. 

I  stood  as  a  man  might  stand  who  sees  a  vision,  hardly  breath- 
ing. I  made  no  sound,  yet  she  turned  and  saw  me,  sheltered  as  I 
was  by  the  dappled  trunk  of  a  tall  plane-tree.  It  was  as  if  I  had 
called,  and  she  had  answered. 

I  knew  she  remembered  me,  and  that  she  did  not  misunder- 
stand my  presence.  There  was  no  anger  in  her  face,  only  surprise, 
and  a  light  which  was  hidden  as  she  dropped  her  head,  and  pass- 
ed on  through  the  gate. 

I  could  have  sung  the  song  of  the  stars.  She  had  not  forgotten 
me  since  the  afternoon.  The  look  in  my  eyes  then,  had  arrested 
some  thought  of  hers,  and  set  me  apart  in  her  mind  from  other 
men. 

It  was  no  stupid  conceit  which  made  me  feel  this,  but  a  kind  of 
exalted  conviction. 

When  the  gate  was  shut,  I  took  off  my  hat  and  looked  at  the 
lighted  windows.  I  could  make  her  care.  I  said  to  myself,  "  We're 
meant  for  each  other.  And  if  that's  true,  though  all  the  moun- 
tains in  the  world  were  piled  up  as  barriers  between  us,  I'd  cross 
them." 

That  was  a  vow.  And  through  the  remaining  hours  of  the  night 
I  tried  to  plan  how  it  would  be  best  to  begin  its  fulfilment. 

Men  who  have  gone  through  a  campaign  as  close  friends, 
have  few  secrets  from  one  another;  and  I  had  none  from  Dick 
Waring.  Nevertheless,  I  would  now  have  kept  one  if  it  were  pos- 


THE  GIRL  11 

sible;  but  it  was  not.  If  I  had  not  told  him,  he  would  have  guessed, 
and  then  he  might  have  thought  that  he  had  the  right  to  chaff  me 
on  losing  my  head. 

It  is  only  a  happy  lover  who  can  bear  to  be  chaffed,  however, 
and  a  few  words  were  enough  to  show  my  tactful  American  where 
to  set  his  feet  on  the  slippery  path. 

He  too  had  seen  the  girl ;  therefore  he  could  not  be  surprised  at 
my  state  of  mind.  But  he  regretted  it,  and  urged  that  the  best  I 
could  do  was  to  go  away,  before  the  thought  of  her  had  taken  too 
deep  a  hold  upon  me. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "you're  in  a  hopeless  position;  and  it's 
better  to  look  facts  in  the  face.  If  you'd  fallen  in  love  with  almost 
any  other  girl,  except  Princess  Ena  herself,  you  might  have  hoped. 
But  as  it  is,  what  have  you  to  look  forward  to  ?  You  oughtn't  to 
nave  come  to  Biarritz.  In  the  circumstances,  and  with  the  King 
here,  it  was  bravado.  Friends  of  his,  enemies  of  yours,  might  even 
say  it  was  bad  taste,  which  is  worse.  And  then,  having  come,  you 
proceed  to  follow  the  King's  motor-car;  you  fall  head  over  ears 
in  love  with  a  girl  in  it,  a  friend  of  the  bride-elect,  to  whom  your 
real  name,  if  she's  not  heard  it  already,  could  easily  be  made  to 
seem  anathema  maranatha.  But  that's  not  all.  You're  here  under 
a  name  not  your  own.  If  you  should  by  luck  or  ill-luck  get  a  chance 
to  meet  Lady  Monica,  you  couldn't  be  introduced  to  her  as 
Christopher  Trevenna;  it  would  be  a  false  pretence;  still  less 
could  you  throw  your  real  name  in  her  face ;  for  between  the  King 
of  Spain  as  a  friend,  and  you  as  an  acquaintance,  the  girl  would 
be  in  an  uncomfortable  position,  to  say  the  least.  No,  my  dear 
fellow,  you  can't  meet  this  young  lady;  and  the  only  thing  for 
your  peace  of  mind,  if  you've  really  fallen  in  love,  is  to  go  away." 

I  had  no  arguments  with  which  to  meet  Dick's.  I  listened  in 
silence,  but  —  I  made  no  preparation  for  departure.  If  there  was 
nothing  to  be  gained  by  staying,  at  least  there  was  as  little  to  be 
gained  by  going ;  for  I  knew  that  I  should  not  forget  the  girl.  If  I 
were  struck  blind,  her  face  would  still  live  for  my  eyes,  white  and 
pure  against  a  background  of  darkness. 


12  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

We  stayed  on  at  Biarritz,  but  I  behaved  with  circumspection, 
and  made  no  further  attempts  to  put  myself  in  the  King's  way, 
though  he  arrived  at  the  Villa  Mouriscot  every  morning  from  San 
Sebastian.  Dick  approved  my  conduct  and,  pitying  my  depres- 
sion, perhaps  repented  his  hardness.  He  found  several  Parisian 
friends  at  Biarritz,  and  when  we  had  been  there  for  three  days, 
he  came  back  to  the  hotel  from  the  Casino  one  night  with  an  im- 
portant air. 

"Strange  how  one's  tempted  to  do  things  one  knows  one 
oughtn't  to  do,"  said  he.  "  Now,  it's  unwise  to  tell  you  I've  met  a 
man  who  knows  Lady  Monica  Vale,  yet  I'm  doing  it." 

"  What  did  the  man  say  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  number  of  things  —  charming,  of  course.  She's  not  en- 
gaged, if  that's  any  consolation." 
3  "Oh,  I  knew  that." 

"How?" 

"By  her  eyes." 

"  Apparently  she  observed  yours  also." 

"  What  ?  She's  spoken  of  —  she  —  " 

"  The  sister  of  my  man  is  a  friend  of  Lady  Monica's.  She  told 
the  sister  about  the  motor-car  adventure." 

"  For  goodness  sake  don't  force  me  to  ask  questions." 

"  I  won't.  I've  a  soft  heart,  which  has  often  been  my  undoing. 
She  said  she'd  seen  the  most  interesting  man  in  the  world.  Don't 
faint." 

"  Don't  be  an  ass." 

"  I'm  not  chaffing.  She  did  say  that  —  honest  Injun.  At  least, 
I've  Henri  de  la  Mole's  word  for  it.  His  sister  was  at  school  at  the 
convent  of  the  Virgin  of  Tears  with  Lady  Monica  Vale.  Lady 
Monica  supposed  the  other  day  that  we  were  both  French,  which 
is  a  compliment  to  your  accent.  She  said  she  wished  she  could 
find  out  '  who  was  the  brown  man  with  the  eyes.'  I'm  a  fool  to 
have  told  you  that  though,  eh  ?  It  can't  do  you  any  good,  and  will 
probably  make  you  worse." 

"  But  it  has  done  me  good." 


THE  GIRL  13 

"  Flattered  your  vanity.  However,  I  haven't  told  you  all  yet. 
De  la  Mole  says  the  mother's  a  dragon,  hard  as  iron,  cold  as  steel, 
living  for  ambition.  She  was  left  poor,  on  her  husband's  death, 
as  the  Vale-Avon  estates  went  with  the  title  to  a  distant  relative, 
and  the  girl's  been  brought  up  to  make  a  brilliant  match.  She's 
been  given  every  accomplishment  under  Heaven,  to  add  to  her 
beauty;  and  as  the  family's  one  of  the  oldest  in  Great  Britain, 
connected  with  royalty  in  one  way  or  another,  in  Stuart  days, 
Lady's  Monica's  expected  to  pull  off  something  from  the  top 
branch,  in  the  way  of  a  marriage.  De  la  Mole's  heard  that  the 
present  Lord  Vale- A  von  has  been  first  favourite  with  the  mother 
up  till  lately,  though  he's  next  door  to  an  idiot.  Princess 
Ena's  engagement  to  the  King  of  Spain  has  changed 
everything.  You  see,  Lady  Vale-Avon  and  her  daughter  live 
not  far  from  the  Princess,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  When 
the  King  came  a-courting  to  England,  came  also,  though 
not  exactly  in  his  train,  another  Spaniard,  the  Duke  of 
Carmona,  and  —  " 

" Don't,"  I  cut  in;  "I  won't  hear  his  name  in  connection  with 
her's.  That  half  Moorish  brute!" 

"He  may  have  a  dash  of  Moorish  blood,  but  he's  not  half 
Moorish;  and  if  he's  a  brute,  he's  a  good-looking  brute,  accord- 
ing to  de  la  Mole,  also  he's  one  of  the  richest  young  men  in 
Spain.  Lady  Vale- A  von  — " 

I  jumped  up  and  stopped  Dick.  "  I'm  in  earnest,"  I  said.  "  I 
can't  bear  to  listen.  I  know  the  sort  of  things  you'd  say.  But  don't. 
If  you  do,  I  think  I'll  kill  the  fellow." 

"Ever  met  him?" 

"  No.  The  men  of  my  house  and  of  his  have  been  enemies  for 
generations.  But  I've  heard  of  certain  exploits." 

"  He's  coming  here  to  stop  with  his  mother,  the  old  Duchess, 
who's  been  spending  the  winter  at  Biarritz.  Another  reason  for 
you  to  vamose." 

"  You  mean*  to  stay.  At  least,  he  shan't  have  a  clear  coast." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  hope  to  block  it." 


14  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  I  will  —  somehow." 

"  No  doubt  you're  a  hundred  times  the  man  he  is,  but  —  fate's 
handicapped  you  for  a  show  place  in  the  matrimonial  market. 
You  are—  " 

"  A  man  countryless  and  penniless.  Don't  hesitate  to  state  the 
case  frankly." 

"  Well,  you've  said  it.  While  the  other's  rich,  and  a  grandee  of 
Spain.  And,  though  de  la  Mole  says  the  King  doesn't  care  for 
him,  on  account  of  something  or  other  connected  with  the 
Spanish-American  War,  he's  bound  to  become  a  persona  grata 
at  Court  if  he  marries  a  friend  of  the  young  Queen ;  and,  no  doubt, 
that  influences  his  choice." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  Lady  Monica  isn't  Spanish." 

"Ah,  but  Spain's  the  fashion  now.  And  you  haven't  heard  all 
my  news.  Henri  de  la  Mole  says  Lady  Monica  is  asked  to  be  a 
maid  of  honour  for  the  young  Queen  of  Spain,  the  one  English- 
woman she's  to  have  in  attendance." 

"  At  least  the  wedding  won't  be  till  June.  It's  only  the  end  of 
February  now.  I've  got  more  than  three  months." 

"  You  haven't  got  one.  Soon  after  the  Princesses  leave  Biarritz, 
Lady  Vale-Avon  and  Lady  Monica  are  going  to  visit  the  old 
Duchess  of  Carmona  in  Spain." 

"  What,  they're  going  to  Seville  ?  " 

"  If  her  house  is  there.  I'm  telling  you  what  I've  been  told." 

"  The  principal  house  of  the  Duke  is  in  Seville,  though  he  has 
a  place  near  Granada,  and  a  flat  in  Madrid  as  a  substitute  for  a 
fine  house  that  was  burned  down." 

"  Then  Seville's  where  they'll  be.  Anyhow,  they're  to  see  the 
great  show  in  Holy  Week  there." 

It  was  as  if  Dick  had  suddenly  drenched  me  with  iced  water. 

For  a  few  seconds  I  did  not  speak.  Then  I  said,  "Are  you  try- 
ing to  break  it  to  me  that  the  match  is  arranged  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  Lady  Monica  wasn't  engaged." 

"  And  I  told  you  I  knew  she  wasn't.  But  that  isn't  to  say  the 
mother,  the  woman  'as  hard  as  iron  and  cold  as  steel,'  hasn't 


THE  GIRL  15 

planned  her  daughter's  future,  a  girl  so  young,  and  always  kept 
under  control." 

"  It  looks  as  if  the  wind  was  setting  in  that  quarter.  A  person  of 
Lady  Vale-Avon's  type  would  hardly  accept  such  an  invitation 
if  she  didn't  intend  something  to  come  of  it." 

"  You're  certain  the  invitation's  been  accepted  ?  " 

"Certain.  Angele  de  la  Mole  has  been  with  her  brother  in 
Spain,  and  Lady  Monica's  been  asking  her  advice  about  what  to 
take  and  what  to  wear.  The  Duke  himself  is  in  Paris,  buying  a 
new  automobile;  at  least,  so  his  mother  says;  but  other  people 
say  he's  at  Monte  Carlo.  Anyhow,  he's  expected  here  in  time  for 
the  ball." 

"What  ball?" 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  A  masked  ball  the  old  Duchess  is  giving  in 
honour  of  Princess  Ena.  A  grand  affair  it  will  be,  says  de  la  Mole. 
There's  been  jealously  about  the  invitations,  which  have  been 
carefully  weeded." 

"  You  and  I'll  accept,"  said  I. 

"  We're  not  likely  to  have  the  chance." 

"Sometimes  a  man  must  make  a  chance.  I  shall  meet  Lady 
Monica  at  the  Duchess's  ball." 

"  All  right.  Suppose  you  go  in  the  garb  of  a  palmer  ?  " 

"Eh?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  another  first  meeting,  case  not  dissimilar, 
you  know,  Romeo  and  Juliet.  My  poor,  mad  friend,  there's  more 
hope  for  a  Montague  with  a  Capulet  than  for  a  Casa  Triana  with 
a  friend  of  the  future  Queen  of  Spain,  and  the  daughter  of  a  Lady 
Vale-Avon." 

"Romeo  won  Juliet." 

"  It  wasn't  exactly  a  fortunate  marriage.  See  here,  if  you're 
going  in  for  the  part  of  Romeo,  it's  no  good  asking  me  to  play 
Mercutio." 

I  looked  at  Dick  and  smiled.  "  I  shall  ask  nothing,"  I  said. 
"Yet—" 

"  Yet,  you  know  mighty  well,  if  you  want  a  Mercutio,  I'll  be 


16  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

ready  to  take  up  the  role  at  a  moment's  notice  all  for  the  sake 
of  your  beaux^yeux.  Well,  you're  right.  There's  something  queer 
about  you,  Ramon,  which  makes  us  others  glad  to  do  what  we 
can,  even  if  it  were  to  cost  our  lives.  If  you'd  been  a  king  in  exile, 
you'd  have  had  no  trouble  in  finding  followers.  From  your  French 
valet  to  your  Russian  soldiers;  from  your  English  chauffeur  to 
your  American  friend,  it's  pretty  well  the  same.  I  expect  you'll 
get  to  that  masked  ball." 

"If  I  don't,  it  won't  be  for  lack  of  trying,"  said  I. 

"But—" 

"But  what  —  " 

"This  affair  of  yours  is  going  to  end  in  tragedy  —  for  some- 
one," said  Dick. 


m 

THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  NOT  ASKED 

DURING  the  next  two  or  three  days  I  found  more  to  do. 
I  got  Dick  to  introduce  me  to  his  friend  Henri  de 
la  Mole,  not  as  Christopher  Trevenna,  but  under  my 
own  name,  and  when   he  and  his  sister  had  been 
interested  in  what  they  chose  to  think  a  romance,  I  was  able  to 
learn  through  them  that,  curiously  enough,  Lady  Vale-Avon  had 
arranged  for  her  daughter  to  appear  at  the  ball  as  Juliet. 

The  costume,  it  seemed,  decided  itself,  because  there  happened 
to  be  among  Lady  Vale-Avon's  inherited  and  most  treasured 
possessions,  an  interesting  pearl  head-dress  of  the  conventional 
Juliet  fashion.  This  had  been  sent  for  from  England;  and  if  I 
could  succeed  in  getting  to  the  ball,  as  I  fully  intended  to  do,  I 
should  have  little  difficulty  in  identifying  the  head  that  I  adored. 
Had  I  not  taken  de  la  Mole  more  or  less  into  my  confidence, 
he  would  have  done  nothing  to  further  my  interests;  but,  if  I 
really  have  any  such  power  as  Dick  Waring  hinted,  I  used  it  to 
enlist  de  la  Mole  upon  my  side.  Finally  he  not  only  agreed,  but 
offered  to  help  me  enter  the  Duchess  of  Carmona's  house  as  one 
of  her  masked  guests.  He  had  been  asked  to  stand  at  the  door 
that  night,  and  request  each  person,  or  in  any  case  the  man  of 
each  party,  to  raise  his  mask  for  an  instant.  This,  in  order  to 
keep  out  reporters  and  intruders  of  all  sorts;  and  his  promise 
was  to  let  me  pass  in  unchallenged.  I  might  count  on  his  good 
offices,  not  only  in  that  way,  but  in  any  other  way  possible,  for 
"  all  the  world  loves  a  lover, "  said  he.  And  he  wished  me  the  best 
of  luck,  though  he  looked  as  if  he  hardly  expected  me  to  have  it. 

17 


18  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Probably  it  was  foolish  and  conceited,  but  I  could  not  resist 
playing  up  to  the  role  Dick  suggested.  She  was  to  be  Juliet.  I 
would  be  Romeo. 

By  this  time,  no  doubt,  the  Duchess's  invited  guests  had  their 
costumes  well  under  way;  I  had  to  get  mine,  and  the  only  way  to 
have  something  worthy  of  the  occasion  was  to  go  to  Paris  for  it. 
I  did  go,  and  was  back  in  Biarritz  in  two  days. 

The  rest  moved  easily,  without  a  hitch.  The  night  of  the  ball 
came.  I  dressed  and  went  alone,  rather  than  drag  Dick  into  an 
affair  which  might  end  disagreeably. 

I  did  not  put  myself  forward,  but  stood  for  a  while  and  watched 
the  dancers,  waiting  for  my  chance. 

Carmona  had  arrived  the  day  before.  I  had  never  met  him, 
but  what  I  had  heard  I  did  not  like;  and  having  seen  him  once 
or  twice  in  London,  at  a  distance,  he  was  recognizable  in  a  cos- 
tume copied  from  a  famous  portrait  of  that  Duke  of  Alba  who 
loomed  great  in  Philip  the  Second's  day.  Because  of  a  slight 
differenc^  one  from  the  other,  in  the  height  of  his  shoulders,  he 
was  difficult  to  disguise;  and  though  the  arrangement  of  the  cos- 
tume was  intended  to  hide  the  peculiarity,  it  was  perceptible. 

When  the  "Duke  of  Alba"  had  danced  twice  in  succession 
with  Juliet  Capulet,  I  could  bear  my  role  of  watcher  no  longer. 
Besides,  I  knew  that  I  had  not  much  time  to  waste.  For  the  sake 
of  de  la  Mole,  who  had  run  the  risk  of  admitting  a  stranger,  I 
must  vanish  before  the  hour  for  the  masks  to  fall.  When  I  took 
off  my  cap  and  bowed  before  this  white  Juliet  with  the  pearl- 
laced  plaits  of  gold,  she  gazed  at  me  through  her  velvet  mask  in 
the  sifence  of  surprise.  I  could  not  guess  whether  she  puzzled 
herself  as  to  what  was  under  my  yellow-brown  wig  and  my  mask ; 
but  at  least  she  must  know  it  was  Romeo  who  begged  a 
dance. 

I  did  not  urge  my  claim  on  such  a  plea,  however,  least  it  should 
rouse  Cannona's  opposition,  and  cause  him  to  keep  the  girl  from 
me  if  he  could.  I  merely  said,  "  The  next  is  our  dance, "  risking 
a  rebuff;  but  it  did  not  come. 


THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  NOT  ASKED  19 

"Yes,"  she  said,  almost  timidly.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had 
heard  her  speak,  and  her  voice  went  to  my  heart. 

The  Duke  stared,  as  though  he  would  have  stripped  off  my 
mask  by  sheer  force  of  curiosity.  But  he  had  to  let  the  girl  gd^ 
and  as  the  music  began  she  was  in  my  arms.  I  hardly  dared 
believe  my  own  luck.  Neither  of  us  spoke.  I  was  lost  in  the  sense 
of  her  nearness,  the  knowledge  that  it  was  the  music  which  gave 
me  the  right  to  hold  her  thus,  and  that  when  the  music  died  I 
must  let  her  go. 

But  a  quick  thought  came.  If  we  danced  the  waltz  through, 
Carmona  or  someone  else  would  claim  her  for  the  next.  If  I  could 
hide  the  girl  before  it  was  over,  perhaps  I  might  keep  her  for  a 
little  time.  Indeed,  I  must  keep  her,  if,  this  meeting  were  not  to 
end  in  failure ;  for  there  were  things  I  had  to  say. 

The  conservatory  was  too  obvious;  and  the  shallow  staircase 
with  its  rose^garlanded  balusters,  and  its  fat  silk  cushion  for  each 
step,  would  soon  be  invaded  by  a  dozen  couples.  What  to  do, 
then  ?  I  would  have  given  much  to  know  the  house. 

"  I  must  speak  with  you, "  I  said  at  last.  "  Where  can  we  go  ?  " 

She  did  not  say  in  return,  "  Do  you  know  me,  then  ?  "  or  any 
other  conventional  thing.  The  hope  in  me  that  she  had  remem- 
bered well  enough  to  guess  who  I  was,  brightened.  She  would  not 
have  answered  a  person  she  regarded  as  a  stranger,  as  she 
answered  me, 

"  There's  a  card-room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  to  the  left,  off 
the  big  hall,  where  we  might  rest  for  a  moment  or  two, "  she  said. 
"  But  I  mustn't  stop  long.  " 

"  No, "  I  promised.  "  I  won't  try  to  keep  you.  I  ask  only  a  few 
moments.  I  can't  tell  how  I  thank  you  for  giving  me  those. " 

I  threw  a  glance  round  for  Carmona,  and  saw  him  dancing 
with  a  stately  Mary  Stuart.  I  guessed  his  partner  to  be  Lady 
Vale- Avon;  and  if  I  were  right,  it  was  a  bad  omen.  She  was  not  a 
woman  to  care  for  extraneous  dancing,  therefore  she  favoured 
Carmona  in  particular. 

Still,  for  the  moment  he  was  occupied ;  and  when  his  back  was 


20  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

turned  I  whisked  Lady  Monica  out  of  the  ball-room,  past  the 
decorated  staircase  in  the  square  hall,  and  to  the  room  at  the  end  of 
the  corridor.  There  I  pushed  aside  a  portiere  and  followed  her  in. 

She  had  been  right ;  the  room  was  unoccupied,  though  two  or 
three  bridge  tables  were  ready  for  players.  In  one  corner  was  a 
small  sofa.  The  girl  sat  down,  carefully  leaving  no  place  for  me, 
even  had  I  presumed  j  and,  leaning  forward,  clasped  her  little 
hands  nervously  round  her  knees. 

Then  she  looked  up  at  me  through  her  mask;  and  I  did  not 
keep  her  waiting. 

"  I've  no  invitation  to-night, "  I  said.  "  But  I  had  to  come.  I 
came  to  see  you.  Do  you  forgive  me  for  saying  this  ?  " 

"I  —  think  so, "  she  answered. 

*'  You  would  be  sure,  if  you  knew  all.  " 

"  I  do  know.  At  least  —  I  mean  —  but  of  course,  I  oughtn't 
to  be  here  with  you. " 

"  According  to  convention  you  oughtn't.  Yet  —  " 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  conventions.  But  —  oh,  I  should  hate 
you  to  misunderstand!" 

"  I  could  never  misunderstand.  " 

I  snatched  off  my  mask  and  stood  looking  down  at  her, 
knowing  that  my  face  would  say  what  was  in  my  heart,  and  not 
now  wishing  to  hide  the  secret. 

"  You  know, "  I  said,  "  that  I've  worshipped  you  since  the  first 
moment  I  saw  you.  It  was  impossible  to  meet  you  in  any  ordinary 
way,  for  you  have  no  friend  who  would  introduce  to  you  the 
Marques  de  Casa  Triana.  Have  you  ever  heard  that  name  before, 
Lady  Monica  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered  frankly.  "I  heard  it  yesterday.  From 
Angele  de  la  Mole. " 

"  Her  brother's  a  friend  of  my  best  friend. " 

"I  know." 

"*  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  I  should  have  had  great  trouble 
in  getting  here  to-night.  Yet  I  would  have  come.  Did  Mademoi- 
selle de  la  Mole  tell  you  that  I  loved  you  ?  " 


THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  NOT  ASKED  21 

Lady  Monica  dropped  her  head  and  did  not  answer,  but  the 
little  hands  were  pressed  tightly  together. 

"  I've  always  been  proud  of  my  name, "  I  said,  "  though  it's 
counted  a  misfortune  to  bear  it ;  but  when  I  saw  you,  then  I  knew 
for  the  first  time  how  great  a  misfortune  it  may  be. " 

"Why?" 

"  Because  my  only  happiness  can  come  now  in  having  you  for 
my  wife;  and  even  if  I  could  win  your  love,  you  wouldn't  be 
allowed  to  marry  my  father's  son. " 

"Your  father  may  have  been  mistaken,"  the  girl  faltered. 
"  I  do  think  he  was.  But  he  was  a  gloriously  brave  man.  Even  the 
enemies  against  whom  he  fought  must  respect  his  memory. 
I  —  I've  read  of  him.  I  —  bought  a  book  yesterday.  You  see  — 
I've  thought  about  you.  I  couldn't  help  it.  We  saw  each  other 
only  those  few  minutes,  and  we  didn't  even  speak;  yet  somehow 
it  was  different  from  anything  else  that  ever  happened  to  me. " 

"  It  was  fate, "  I  said.  "  We  were  destined  to  meet,  and  I  was 
destined  to  love  you.  If  I  thought  I  could  make  you  care,  that 
would  give  me  a  right  I  couldn't  have  otherwise ;  the  right  to  try 
and  win  your  love,  and  beat  down  every  obstacle. " 

"  I  could  —  I  do  care, "  she  whispered.  "  Even  if  I  were  never 
to  see  you  again,  I  shouldn't  forget.  This  —  would  be  the  ro- 
mance of  my  life. " 

"  Angel ! "  I  said.  And  then  she  took  off  her  mask,  with  such  a 
divine  smile  that  I  could  have  knelt  at  her  feet  as  at  the  shrine 
of  a  saint. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  didn't  find  out  your  name 
till  yesterday,  though  I  tried  before;  and  we  don't  know  each 
other  at  all  —  " 

"Why,  we've  known  each  other  since  the  world  began.  My 
soul  had  been  waiting  to  find  yours  again,  and  found  it  the  other 
afternoon,  on  the  road  to  my  own  land.  That's  what  people  who 
don't  understand  call  '  love  at  first  sight.'  ' 

"  I  think  it  must  be  so ;  because  there  was  never  anything  like 
that  first  minute  when  you  looked  at  me. " 


22  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"If  I  could  have  known,  it  would  have  saved  me  sleepless 
nights.  For  now  you're  mine,  my  dearest,  just  as  I  am  yours. 
Nothing  can  take  you  from  me  now. " 

"  Ah,  I'm  afraid !  Even  if  —  everything  were  different  in  your 
life,  it  would  be  difficult;  for  —  there's  someone  else  in  mine 
already. " 

"  There  can  be  no  one  else,  since  you  care  for  me. " 

"  Not  truly  in  my  life.  But  there's  someone  my  mother  wants 
me  to  marry. " 

"The  Duke  of  Carmona." 

"You  knew?" 

"You  see,  I've  thought  of  nothing  but  you;  and  I've  learned 
all  I  could  about  what  concerns  you. " 

"  I  don't  like  him,  not  even  as  a  friend.  He's  handsome  enough, 
but  I'm  sure  he  has  a  most  horrible  temper.  I  could  be  afraid  of 
him.  I  believe  I  am  afraid.  And  mother  —  you  don't  know  her, 
but  —  when  she  makes  up  her  mind  that  you're  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  you  find  yourself  doing  it.  That's  one  reason  I  was  so 
glad  when  you  came  to-night,  and  said, '  The  next  is  our  dance,' 
in  such  a  determined  way.  Not  only  did  you  take  me  away 
from  him,  but  —  I  felt  you'd  try  to  keep  me  from  him,  in 
the  end. " 

"  Try ! "  I  echoed.  "  I  will  keep  you.  Trust  me  my  darling.  I've 
been  foolish  to  come  to  Biarritz  under  another  name.  This  isn't 
Spain ;  and  even  a  Casa  Triana  has  a  right  to  be  here.  But  luckily 
not  much  harm's  done.  Through  the  de  la  Moles  I'll  be  presented 
to  Lady  Vale-Avon;  I'll  tell  her  that,  though  compared  to  the 
days  when  my  people  counted  for  something  in  the  history  of 
Spain,  I'm  penniless,  still  my  father  left  me  enough  to  live  on  and 
keep  a  wife  who  loves  me  better  than  she  loves  society.  I'll  tell 
Lady  Vale-Avon  that  there  are  countries  in  which  my  name's 
well  thought  of,  even  in  these  piping  times;  that  there  I'll  do 
something  worth  doing  —  " 

"You've  already  done  things  worth  doing, "  the  girl  broke  in; 
"  splendid  things. " 


THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  NOT  ASKED  23 

"I've  done  nothing  yet,  but  I'll  change  that.  I'll  ask  your 
mother  to  give  me  a  chance  —  to  wait  — ' 

"No,"  she  insisted.  "Mother  would  refuse,  and  everything 
would  be  worse  than  ever.  " 

"  Darling  one,  they  couldn't  be  worse.  Because  now,  I'm  doing 
what  I  oughtn't  to  do,  although  it's  been  forced  upon  me  by  my 
love.  To  deserve  you  in  the  faintest  degree,  I  must  be  open  in  my 
dealings.  I  must  speak  to  Lady  Vale-Avon. " 

"  She'll  never  consent.  " 

"At  least  I  shall  have  done  the  right  thing.  Now  we've  had 
this  talk,  now  you  know  that  you're  all  the  world,  and  heaven 
besides,  to  me,  even  for  your  mother's  sake  you  won't  throw  me 
over,  will  you  ? " 

"  No,  a  thousand  times  no.  I  didn't  dream  loving  would  be  like 
this.  It  would  kill  me  to  give  you  up. " 

"  Then  nothing  can  part  us.  " 

"  It  makes  me  feel  brave  to  hear  you  say  so.  But  —  you  don't 
know  mother. " 

"  I  know  myself,  and  I  trust  you. " 

"  I'm  so  young,  and  —  I've  never  been  allowed  to  have  my  own 
way.  I've  always  given  up." 

"  Because  you  were  alone,  with  no  one  to  help  you.  Now  you 
have  me. " 

"That's  true.  But—  " 

"Precious  one,  there's  no  'but." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so !  Yet  something  seems  to  say  that  if 
you  speak  to  mother,  we  shall  be  lost.  I  love  you  —  but  —  do 
let  it  be  kept  secret  for  a  while. " 

"With  what  end?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  Only,  I've  the  strongest  presentiment  it  would 
be  best. " 

"And  I've  the  strongest  conviction  that  not  only  would  it  be 
wrong,  but  that  you  wouldn't  respect  me  if  I  consented. " 

"  I  beg  of  you,  wait  at  least  till  the  royalties  leave  Biarritz 
before  you  tell  mother,  or  anyone,  who  you  are. " 


24  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

I  could  not  help  smiling,  though  rather  bitterly.  "You've 
heard  about  my  adventure  in  Barcelona  ?  " 

"Yes,  from  Angele.  I  couldn't  bear  it  if  you  were  to  have 
trouble  here. " 

"  There's  no  danger  of  that. " 

"  One  can't'tell.  Circumstances  which  you  don't  foresee  might 
seem  to  involve  you  in  some  plot.  Oh,  if  you  love  me,  wait  till 
the  royalties  have  gone. " 

How  could  I  refuse  those  soft  eyes,  and  those  little  clasped 
hands  ? 

I  caught  the  hands  and  crushed  them  against  my  lips,  the  rosy 
fingers  that  smelled  of  orris,  and  the  polished  nails  like  pink 
jewels.  As  I  bent  over  my  love,  the  curtain  which  covered  the 
doorway  waved  as  in  a  gust  of  wind. 

Quick  as  light,  Monica  snatched  away  her  hands,  but  it  was 
too  late.  Carmona  was  holding  back  the  portiere  for  Lady  Vale- 
Avon. 

He  must  have  been  watching.  He  must  have  known  that  I  had 
brought  Lady  Monica  to  this  room.  He  must  have  fetched  the 
girl's  mother  on  purpose  to  find  us  together. 

These  were  the  thoughts  in  my  mind  as  I  faced  the  two,  mask 
in  hand. 

They  had  seen  me  kissing  Monica's  fingers.  It  was  useless  to 
hope  that  they  had  not. 

"Leave  the  room  instantly,  my  daughter,"  said  Lady  Vale- 
Avon,  in  a  low  voice.  She  too  had  taken  off  her  mask. 

It  was  a  disastrous  situation  for  me,  and  one  all  too  difficult 
to  carry  off  with  dignity. 

"  Madame, "  I  said.  "  I  am  the  Marques  de  Casa  Triana.  I  met 
Lady  Monica  some  time  ago,  and  have  this  moment  told  her  that 
I  love  her.  Now,  I  ask  your  consent  to  —  " 

"Casa  Triana  here!"  exclaimed  Carmona,  in  a  tone  which 
could  have  expressed  no  more  of  horror,  had  I  been  a  bandit 
at  large. 

"  Have  no  fear  for  your  house, "  I  could  not  help  sneering. 


THE  GUEST  WHO  WAS  NOT  ASKED  25 

He  gave  me  a  look  not  to  be  forgiven  a  man  by  a  man.  "  I  have 
no  such  fear, "  he  said ;  "  but  there  are  those  here  whose  safety 
is  dear  to  me;  and  your  name  is  not  one  which  should  be  spoken 
under  the  same  roof. " 

It  was  thus  that  he  chose  to  inform  Lady  Vale- Avon,  if  she  had 
been  ignorant  of  it,  that  I  was  a  notorious  character. 

"  Will  you  tell  me, "  he  went  on,  "  how  you  found  your  way 
into  my  mother's  house,  where  no  one  of  your  name  could 
be  an  invited  guest  ?  " 

"  There's  a  window, "  said  I,  thinking  to  save  de  la  Mole,  "  by 
which  the  world  and  his  wife  might  enter. " 

"  I  saw  you,  masked,  in  the  ball-room  half  an  hour  ago." 

Half  an  hour  ago !  Perhaps  he  was  not  exaggerating.  But  the 
thirty  minutes,  if  there  had  been  thirty,  had  passed  like  one. 

"  I  was  there, "  I  admitted,  "  looking  for  Lady  Monica  Vale. 
We  danced  together,  and  I  brought  her  here  —  " 

"Who  is  this  man,  Duke?"  Though  she  spoke  to  him,  Lady 
Vale-Avon's  eyes,  cold  as  points  of  steel,  pierced  mine. 

"  A  person  who,  whatever  his  intentions  may  be,  ought  not  to 
be  in  Biarritz  while  King  Alfonso's  here. " 

"  I  remember  the  name  now.  And  he  has  come  to  your  house, 
uninvited ;  he  proposes  to  marry  my  daughter  —  a  man  whom 
I've  never  seen!  You  have  your  answer,  Marques  de  Casa 
Triana,  if  you  need  an  answer.  It  is,  no.  Pray  accept  it 
quietly,  and  cease  to  persecute  us,  otherwise  I  must  ask 
the  Duke  to  act  for  me,  as  I  have  no  husband  or  son.  Is  that 
enough  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  enough, "  I  echoed.  "  I  love  your  daughter,  and  I 
trust  she  cares  for  me.  I  will  not  give  her  up. " 

"  Monica,  I  told  you  to  go,  and  you  disobey  me, "  exclaimed 
Lady  Vale- Avon.  "  Now,  I  tell  you  to  send  this  man  away. " 

"Mother  —  I  love  him,"  faltered  the  girl.  "Wait  —  when 
you've  heard  —  when  you  know  what  he  is  —  " 

"You  talk  like  a  child,  Monica, "  her  mother  said.  "You  are 
a  child.  It's  your  one  excuse;  but  this  man,  who  must  have 


26  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

hypnotized  you,  has  reached  years  of  discretion.  If  he  will  not 
leave  the  room,  we  must." 

"  I'll  go,  Lady  Vale-Avon, "  I  said,  "  but  first  let  me  say  once 
more,  frankly,  I  will  never  give  up  your  daughter. "  Then  I 
looked  straight  at  Monica.  "  Trust  me, "  I  said,  "  as  I  trust  you ; 
and  have  courage. " 

With  that  I  bowed,  and  walked  out  at  the  window  by  which  I 
hoped  the  Duke  thought  I  had  come  in. 

"I'm  not  sure,"  I  heard  him  say  to  Lady  Vale- Avon,  "that 
I  oughtn't  to  inform  the  police.  In  Barcelona,  six  or 
seven  years  ago  —  " 

I  waited  for  no  more. 


IV 

"I  DON'T  THREATEN— I  WARN" 

IN  the  garden  I  stopped,  hiding  away  a  scrap  of  a  lace 
handkerchief  I  had  stolen;  wondering  if  I  had  been 
altogether  wrong,  yet  not  able  to  see  what  other  course 
had  been  open. 

Lingering  near  the  window  I  saw  Lady  Vale-Avon  go  to 
Monica,  and  hold  the  girl  by  the  hand  while  she  talked  with 
Carmona.  They  spoke  only  a  few  words.  Then  the  Duke  opened 
the  door,  and  the  two  ladies  went  out,  Monica  not  once  looking 
up. 

No  sooner  had  they  gone  than  Carmona  walked  to  the  window, 
and  seeing  me  in  the  glimmering  night  joined  me. 

"  This  is  my  mother's  house, "  he  said  in  Spanish. 

"  And  her  garden,  you  would  add, "  I  answered. 

"Yes." 

"  But  there's  something  here  that  is  mine. " 

"  There  is  nothing  here  that  is  yours. "  His  voice,  studiously 
cold  at  first,  warmed  with  anger. 

"  It  will  be  mine  some  day,  in  spite  of  —  everything. " 

"  You  boast,  Marques  de  Casa  Triana. " 

"  No.  For  Lady  Monica  Vale  has  promised  to  marry  me.  ** 

Carmona  caught  his  breath  on  a  word  by  which,  if  he  had  not 
stopped  to  think,  he  would  have  given  me  the  lie.  But  something 
restrained  him  and  he  laughed  instead.  "  I  wouldn't  count  on  the 
ulfilment  of  her  promise  if  I  were  you, "  he  said.  "  Lady  Monica's 
a  schoolgirl.  I  would  tell  you,  for  your  own  sake,  that  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  forget  you  ever  saw  her;  but  that  will  be  a 

27 


28  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

waste  of  breath.  What  I  will  say  is,  you'll  be  wise  to  leave  Biarritz 
before  anything  disagreeable  happens." 

"  I  intend  to  leave  Biarritz, "  I  said  quietly. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  When  Lady  Monica  and  her  mother  leave. " 

"You  intend  to  persecute  these  ladies!" 

"  Not  at  all.  But  when  they  go  to  visit  the  Duchess  of  Carmona, 
that  will  be  —  the  time  I  shall  choose  for  leaving  Biarritz. " 

"  Who  has  spoken  of  such  a  visit  ?  " 

"  A  person  I  trust. " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  whether  in  surprise  or  anger  I 
could  not  tell.  But  at  last  he  said,  "  I'm  less  well-informed  than 
your  friend  as  to  the  plans  of  Lady  Vale-Avon  and  her  daughter. 
They  may  return  to  England;  they  may  go  to  friends  in  Paris, 
they  may  visit  my  mother.  But  this  doesn't  concern  strangers 
like  yourself;  and  my  advice  to  the  Marques  de  Casa  Triana  is, 
whatever  happens,  keep  out  of  Spain. " 

"  Do  you  threaten  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  threaten  —  I  warn. " 

"Thanks  for  your  kind  intentions.  They  give  me  food  for 
thought. " 

"  All  the  better.  You'll  be  less  likely  to  forget. " 

"  I  shan't  forget, "  I  answered.  "  Indeed,  I  shall  profit  by  your 
advice.*'  And  with  that  I  walked  away,  putting  on  my  mask. 

As  Romeo  had  not  known  at  what  hour  he  might  wish  to 
leave  the  house  of  Capulet,  he  had  ordered  neither  his  own  motor- 
car nor  a  carriage;  but  luckily  a  cab  was  lingering  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood on  the  chance  of  a  fare.  I  was  glad  not  to  walk  to  my 
hotel  in  the  guise  of  Romeo;  and  I  gained  my  quarters  without 
meeting  curious  eyes  in  the  corridors. 

As  I  expected,  Dick  was  in  our  private  sitting-room,  smoking 
and  reading  a  novel. 

"Well,  what  luck,  friend  Romeo  ?"  he  asked. 

"Luck,  and  ill  luck,"  said  I.  Then  I  told  the  story  of  the 
evening. 


' '  I  DON'T  THREATEN  —  I  WARN ' '  29 

"Humph!  you've  gone  and  got  yourself  into  a  pretty  scrape, " 
was  his  comment  at  the  end. 

"You  call  it  a  'scrape'  when  by  a  miracle  the  sweetest  girl 
alive  has  fallen  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

"  Just  that,  if  the  girl  isn't  old  enough  to  know  her  own  mind, 
and  has  a  mother  who  wouldn't  let  her  know  it  if  she  could. 
You've  gone  so  far  now,  you'll  have  to  go  further  — " 

"  As  far  as  the  end  of  the  world,  if  necessary. " 

"Oh!  you  Latin  men,  with  your  eyes  of  fire,  your  boiling 
passions,  and  your  exaggerated  expressions!  What  do  we 
Yankees  and  other  sensible  persons  see  in  you  ?  " 

"  Heaven  knows, "  said  I,  shrugging  my  shoulders. 

"  I  doubt  it.  Why,  in  the  name  of  common  sense,  as  you'd  got 
to  the  age  of  twenty -seven  without  bothering  about  love,  couldn't 
you  wait  till  the  age  of  twenty-seven  and  a  quarter,  go  quietly  over 
to  my  country  with  me,  a  long  sight  better  than  the  'end  of  the 
world,'  and  propose  to  a  charming  American  girl  of  rational  age 
and  plenty  of  dollars?" 

"A  rational  age?" 

"Over  eighteen,  anyhow.  I  believe  you  Latins  have  a  fancy 
for  these  little  white  ingenues,  who  don't  know  which  side  their 
bread's  buttered,  or  how  to  say  anything  but  '  Yes,  please, '  and 
*  No,  thank  you.'  When  my  time  comes,  the  girl  must  be  twenty- 
two  and  a  good,  patriotic  American. " 

"American  girls  are  fascinating,  but  I  happen  to  be  in  love 
with  an  English  one,  and  it's  her  misfortune  and  mine,  not  our 
fault,  that  she's  eighteen  instead  of  twenty-two. " 

"A  big  misfortune.  You  mustn't  kidnap  an  infant.  That's 
what  makes  it  awkward.  As  I  said,  you  can't  back  out  now. " 

"Not  while  I  live." 

"  Don't  be  so  Spanish.  But  come  to  think  of  it,  I  suppose  you 
can't  help  that.  What  do  you  mean  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  Watch.  And  get  word  to  Monica. " 

"  Angele  de  la  Mole  will  do  what  she  can  for  you. " 

"  I  hope  so.  Then  everything  else  must  depend  on  the  girl. " 


30  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Dick's  lean,  tanned  face  was  half  quizzical,  half  sad. 

"  Everything  else  must  depend  on  the  girl, "  he  repeated.  "  I 
wonder  what  would  happen  if  anybody  tried  to  prop  up  a  hun- 
dred pound  weight  against  a  lilybud  ?  " 


FOR  many  days  after  this  the  young  King  of  Spain 
motored  back  and  forth  between  San  Sebastian  and 
Biarritz  to  visit  the  lady  of  his  love;  but  at  last  the  two 
Princesses  bade  good-bye  to  the  Villa  Mouriscot,  and 
went  to  Paris.  Lady  Vale-Avon  and  Monica  remained;  but  for 
the  moment  the  girl  was  safe  from  Carmona,  for  the  Duke 
followed  the  King  to  Madrid. 

Lovely  as  Monica  was,  is,  and  always  will  be,  and  genuinely 
in  love  with  her  as  I  had  no  doubt  Carmona  was,  still  I  began  to 
believe  that  Dick  Waring  was  right,  and  that  the  Duke's  desire 
to  win  Princess  Ena's  friend  was  as  much  for  Court  favour  as  for 
the  girl  herself.  Several  weeks  passed,  and  Monica  and  her  moth- 
er continued  to  be  tenants  of  the  Villa  Esmeralda.  They  went 
out  little,  except  to  visit  the  old  Duchess  of  Carmona,  who  evi- 
dently did  all  she  could  to  advance  her  son's  interests  with  in- 
vitations to  luncheons  and  dinners;  but  try  as  I  might  I  was  never 
able  to  obtain  an  interview. 

Fortunately  for  me,  Lady  Vale-Avon  had  seen  me  only  in 
fancy  dress;  the  costume  of  Romeo,  with  a  ridiculous  yellow- 
brown,  wavy  wig,  upon  which  the  costumier  had  insisted 
against  my  arguments.  Now,  I  blessed  him  for  his  obstinacy; 
for  I  was  able  to  pass  Lady  Vale-Avon  in  the  street  without  being 
recognized,  and  once  got  near  enough  to  slip  into  Monica's  hand 
a  note  I  had  hastily  scribbled  on  the  leaf  of  a  note-book. 

"  Are  you  willing  that  I  should  try  my  luck  again  with  your 
mother?"  I  had  written.  "If  not,  will  you  consent  to  a 

81 


32  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

runaway  marriage  with  a  man  who  loves  you  better  than 
his  life?" 

Next  day  came  an  answer  through  Mademoiselle  de  la  Mole. 

Monica  begged  that  I  would  not  speak  to  her  mother.  "  She 
fancies  that  you  have  gone  away, "  the  girl  wrote.  "  If  you  came 
forward  I  think  she  would  wire  the  Duke  of  Carmona,  for  she 
writes  to  him  nearly  every  day  as  it  is ;  and  she  would  do  every- 
thing she  could  to  make  me  marry  him  at  once.  Don't  hate  me 
for  being  a  coward.  I'm  not,  except  with  mother.  I  can't  help  it 
with  her.  She's  different  from  everyone  else.  I  heard  the  Duchess 
saying  to  her  yesterday,  that  if  I  were  to  marry  a  grandee  of 
Spain,  I  would  be  made  a  lady-in-waiting  to  the  Queen  instead  of 
maid  of  honour;  so  I  know  what  they're  thinking  of  always.  But 
while  mother  hopes  you  have  given  me  up,  and  that  I'm  quite 
good,  they  will  perhaps  let  me  alone. 

"  I  wish  I  dared  write  to  the  Princess  about  you ;  only,  you  see, 
on  account  of  your  father  and  that  horrid  accident  which  hap- 
pened, in  Barcelona,  she  might  misunderstand  you,  and  things 
would  be  worse  than  before.  But  if  I  find  that  mother  means 
actually  to  try  and  force  me,  then  I  will  go  away  with  you.  Other- 
wise, I  would  rather  wait,  for  both  our  sakes. 

"  When  I  go  back  to  England,  there  are  some  dear  cousins  of 
mine  who  might  help  us,  but  it's  no  use  writing.  I  would  have  to 
see  and  talk  to  them  myself.  Anyway,  if  I  were  there  they'd 
manage  not  to  let  me  be  married  to  a  foreigner  I  hate;  and  you 
and  I  could  go  on  being  true  to  each  other  for  a  little  while,  until 
everything  could  be  arranged. 

"  The  worst  is,  mother  doesn't  mean  to  go  back  to  England  yet. 
That's  what  I'm  afraid  of,  and  that  she  has  some  plan  about 
which  she  doesn't  mean  to  talk  till  the  last  minute.  But  she  hasn't 
said  anything  lately  about  visiting  the  Duchess  of  Carmona  in 
Spain,  and  I  hope  she's  giving  it  up.  As  soon  as  I  hear  any- 
thing definite  I'll  somehow  let  you  know.  I  think  I  can  promise 
that,  though  it  may  be  difficult,  as  mother  will  never  let  Angele 
and  me  be  alone  together  for  a  minute  if  she  can  help  it.  The  day 


A  MYSTERY  CONCERNING  A  CHAUFFEUR     33 

after  the  ball  we  are  having  a  talk  in  my  room  when  my  mother 
came,  and  perhaps  guessed  I  had  been  telling  Angele  things. 
Since  then  I  haven't  been  allowed  to  go  to  Angele's ;  and  though 
Angele  comes  to  see  me,  mother  always  makes  some  excuse  for 
being  with  us." 

After  this  letter  of  Monica's  I  had  at  least  some  idea  of  how 
matters  stood ;  and  in  the  circumstances  there  seemed  nothing  to 
do  but  to  be  near  her,  and  to  wait. 

It  was  not  until  the  latter  part  of  March  that  the  Duke  of  Car- 
mona  came  back  to  his  mother's  villa  at  Biarritz. 

His  arrival  was  not  announced  in  the  local  paper,  neverthe- 
less I  heard  of  it ;  and  the  day  after,  Mademoiselle  de  la  Mole  sent 
me  another  letter  from  Monica,  only  a  few  lines,  evidently  written 
in  great  haste. 

They  were  to  pay  the  visit  to  the  Duchess  of  Carmona  in  Se- 
ville, and  were  to  arrive  there  in  time  for  the  famous  ceremonies 
of  Holy  Week  ;  that  was  all  she  knew.  The  time  of  starting  was 
either  not  decided,  or  else  it  was  not  considered  best  that  she 
should  know  too  long  beforehand. 

" I'm  miserable  about  going,"  wrote  the  girl;  "but  what  can  I 
do  ?  I  used  to  think  it  would  be  glorious  to  see  Spain,  but  now 
I'm  frightened.  I  have  a  horrible  feeling  that  I  shall  never  come 
back.  I  know  it's  too  much  to  ask,  and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do 
it  if  I  do  ask,  since  I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  our  plans;  but  if  only, 
only,  you  could  keep  near  me,  within  call,  I  should  be  safe.  I 
suppose  it's  useless  to  hope  for  that  ?  Anyway,  whatever  happens, 
I  shall  always  love  you." 

To  this  I  wrote  an  answer,  but  Angele  feared  she  might  fail  in 
getting  it  to  her  friend.  The  lease  of  Lady  Vale- Avon's  Biarritz 
villa  had  just  expired,  and  the  mother  and  daughter  were  moving 
to  the  Duchess  of  Carmona's  for  a  few  days.  For  some  reason,  the 
Duchess  had  not  once  invited  Angele  to  come  to  her  house  since 
the  ball.  She  might  not  be  able  to  see  Monica;  and  it  would  be 
very  unsafe  to  trust  to  the  post. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  I  had  this  news 


34  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

that  my  chauffeur  knocked  at  the  door  of  our  sitting-room  at 
the  hotel. 

"  I  thought,"  said  he,  "  I'd  better  tell  your  lordship  something 
which  has  just  happened.  It  may  be  of  importance;  it  may  be  of 
none." 

Now  I  may  as  well  explain  that  Peter  Ropes  is  no  common 
chauffeur.  He  is  the  son  of  the  old  coachman  who  served  my 
father  for  many  years  in  England;  was  groom  to  my  first  pony; 
went  abroad  with  me  as  handy  man;  was  with  me  through  most 
of  my  adventures;  when  I  took  up  motoring,  volunteered  to  go 
into  a  factory  and  thoroughly  learn  the  gentle  art  of  chauffeuring; 
and  at  this  time  understood  an  automobile,  and  loved  it,  as  he 
understood  and  loved  a  horse;  he  is  of  my  age  almost  to  the  day; 
and  I  suppose  will  be  with  me  in  some  capacity  or  other  till  one 
of  us  dies.  He  has  a  brown  face,  which  might  have  been  carved 
from  a  piece  of  oak;  the  eyes  of  a  soldier;  and  never  utters  a  word 
more  than  he  must. 

"  You  said  I  could  go  to  the  pelota  this  afternoon,"  he  continu- 
ed. "  When  I  came  back  I  went  to  the  garage,  and  found  a  strange 
chauffeur  examining  your  Gloria.  I  stood  at  a  distance,  behind 
the  King  of  England's  car,  and  watched  what  he  would  do.  M. 
Levavasseur,  the  proprietor  of  the  garage,  came  in  just  then,  and 
I  inquired  in  a  low  voice  who  the  fellow  was.  He  didn't  know;  but 
the  man  had  asked  for  Mr.  Trevenna's  chauffeur,  saying,  when 
he  heard  I  was  out,  that  he  was  a  friend  of  mine.  I  gave  Levav- 
asseur the  hint  to  keep  quiet,  and  got  out  of  the  way  myself. 
Presently  the  chauffeur  walked  over  to  Levavasseur,  and  said, 
in  French,  that  he  wouldn't  wait  any  longer." 

"  Well,  what  then,  Ropes  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  went  away,  and  I  went  after  him.  He  didn't  see  me,  and 
I  don't  believe  he  would  have  known  me  from  Adam  if  he  had. 
He  stopped  at  another  garage,  and  I  thought  best  not  to  go  in 
there.  But  I  waited,  and  after  a  while  a  very  dark,  tall  gentleman, 
who  looked  Spanish,  walked  into  the  garage.  Five  minutes  later 
he  and  the  chauffeur  came  out  together.  They  parted  at  the  en- 


A  MYSTERY  CONCERNING  A  CHAUFFEUR      35 

trance,  and  it  was  the  gentleman  I  followed  this  time.  He  went  to 
a  large,  handsome  villa;  and  a  person  I  met  told  me  it  was  the 
Duchess  of  Carmona's  house.  That  is  the  reason  I  thought  the 
thing  important." 

"  But  why,  exactly  ?  "  I  persisted,  guessing  what  Ropes  would 
say. 

"  Because  I  think  the  gentleman  was  the  Duke  of  Carmona." 

"And  if  he  were?" 

"I've  heard  gossip  that  he's  anxious  to  stand  well  with  the 
King  of  Spain.  It  occurred  to  me  he  might  have  some  political 
interest  in  trying  to  learn  the  real  name  of  Mr.  Trevenna,  if  you 
pardon  my  having  such  a  thought.  He  might  have  sent  his  chauf- 
feur to  look  at  your  car,  and  make  a  report;  and  if  he  did,  what- 
ever the  reason  was,  it  would  mean  no  good  to  your  lordship.  I 
thought  you  ought  to  know,  and  be  upon  your  guard,  in  case  of 
anything  happening." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said.  "You're  right  to  speak,  and  it  may  be 
you've  done  me  an  invaluable  service." 

Ropes  beamed ;  but  having  said  all  he  had  to  say,  another  word 
would  have  been  a  waste  of  good  material,  which  he  was  not  the 
man  to  squander. 


VI 
PUZZLE  :  FIND  THE  CAR 

LT  do  you  think  it  means?"    asked   Dick, 
when  the  chauffeur  had  gone. 

"It's  just  struck  me,  it  may  mean  that 
Carmona  intends  to  slip  away  with  his 
guests  in  his  new  automobile,  and  that  he  wanted  to  find  out 
something  about  my  car,  what  it  was  like,  and  so  on,  in  case  I  got 
wind  of  the  idea,  and  followed." 

"  The  identical  thing  struck  me.  He  wouldn't  go  spying  him- 
self, but  sent  his  chauffeur,  a  new  importation,  probably,  to  have 
a  look  at  the  Gloria  and  describe  it.  I  wonder  how  he  heard 
you  had  one." 

"  Easy  enough  to  do  that.  Of  course  he's  found  out  somehow, 
perhaps  through  employing  a  detective,  that  Chris  Trevenna  and 
Casa  Triana  are  one  man.  He  can't  make  much  use  of  the  know- 
ledge to  bother  me  on  this  side  the  frontier,  but  —  " 
"Yes;  a  big  but." 

"  It  seems  pretty  certain  that  his  own  car  must  have  come,  or 
be  coming  here,  and  that  he  means  to  use  it  going  into  Spain,  or 
he  wouldn't  have  developed  this  sudden  interest  in  mine." 

"  It  looks  like  it.  Now  he  knows,  if  a  dark  blue  Gloria  crosses 
his  path,  it's  the  car  of  the  pursuing  lover,  and  —  " 

"  I  was  just  thinking  that  a  dark  blue  Gloria  will  not  cross  his 
path." 

"You  don't  mean  — " 

"  I  mean  that  it  won't  be  prudent  for  either  Casa  Triana's  or 
Chris  Trevenna's  car  to  follow  his,  wherever  he  means  to  go." 

36 


PUZZLE:  FIND  THE  CAR  37 

"What,  you'll  give  up— " 

"  Is  it  likely?" 

"  You're  getting  beyond  me." 

"  What  I  want  is  to  stay  with  you,  in  your  car.** 

"Wish  I  had  one!"  said  Dick. 

"  You're  going  to  have  the  loan  of  one.  Would  a  grey  or  a  red 
car  suit  you  best  ?  " 

"  I  see.  Red,  please.  They  say  red  paint  dries  quickest." 

We  both  laughed. 

*'*  Your  red  car  must  have  new  lamps,"  I  went  on,  "  and  a  new 
number,  and  any  other  little  things  that  can  be  put  on  in  a  hurry. 
And  you'd  better  get  a  passport  if  you  haven't  one.  Gentlemen 
touring  in  foreign  lands  are  sometimes  subjected  to  cross-ques- 
tionings which  might  be  inconvenient  unless  they've  plenty  of  red 
tape  up  their  sleeves." 

"  I'll  lay  in  a  stock.  How  would  you  like  me  to  be  the  accredit- 
ed correspondent,  for  the  Spanish  wedding  festivities,  of  a  news- 
paper or  two  ?  " 

"  Rattling  good  idea.  Could  you  work  it  ?  " 

"  Easy  as  falling  off  a  log,  or  puncturing  a  tyre.  I'll  arrange  by 
telegraph,  London  and  New  York." 

"  Grand  old  chap." 

"  Thanks.  Better  wait  till  I've  done  something.  What  about 
your  part  in  the  show  ?  " 

"A  humble  friend,  accompanying  the  important  newspaper 
correspondent  in  his  travels." 

"  That's  all  right.  But  the  Trevenna  business  is  played  out." 

"  A  new  travelling  name's  as  easy  to  fit  as  a  travelling-coat." 

"  Not  quite,  unless  you  can  match  it  with  a  new  travelling  face." 

"Luckily  Carmona  knows  Romeo's  face  better  than  mine. 
And,  anyhow,  a  motoring  get-up  can  be  next  door  to  a  disguise." 

"That's  true.  Behind  goggles  Apollo  hasn't  much  advantage 
over  Apollyon,  and  you  can  develop  a  moustache.  Yes.  I  think  we 
can  work  it  as  far  as  that  goes.  But  one's  always  heard  that  Span- 
ish roads  are  impossible." 


38  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"They'll  be  no  worse  for  us  than  for  Carmona,"  I  argued. 
"  Besides,  most  of  the  best  known  books  about  Spain  are  out  of 
date.  The  King  has  made  motoring  fashionable  lately,  and  there 
must  have  been  some  attempts  to  get  the  roads  into  passable  con- 
dition." 

"  I  happened  to  hear  an  American  who's  here  with  a  sixty  horse- 
power Panhard,  wanting  to  go  to  Seville,  say  to  another  fellow 
that  he'd  been  warned  he  couldn't  get  beyond  Madrid." 

'*  I've  never  bothered  much  about  warnings  in  my  life.  I've 
generally  gone  ahead,  and  found  out  things  for  myself." 

"  We'll  continue  on  the  same  lines.  And,  anyhow,  wherever  we 
go,  we're  sure  of  a  leader;  our  friend  the  enemy." 

It  was  next  in  order  to  find  out  whether  the  Duke  really  had 
brought  an  automobile  to  Biarritz ;  but  try  as  we  might,  we  could 
learn  nothing.  Inquiries  were  made  at  the  railway  stations,  both 
at  Bayonne  and  Biarritz,  as  to  whether  an  automobile  had  lately 
been  shipped  through;  but  as  it  happened,  no  car  of  any  descrip- 
tion had  arrived  by  rail  in  either  direction  during  the  last  fort- 
night. 

All  the  principal  garages  of  Bayonne  and  Biarritz  were  visit- 
ed also,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  mysterious  car  which  might  be 
the  Duke  of  Carmona's;  but  there  was  not  one  of  which  we  could 
not  trace  the  ownership.  We  then  sent  to  Bordeaux,  and  even  to 
St.  Jean  de  Luz;  but  in  both  cases  our  errand  was  vain.  If  Carmo- 
na had  an  automobile  in  the  South  of  France,  it  was  well 
hidden. 

As  for  the  chauffeur  who  had  inspected  my  car,  and  afterwards 
met  Carmona  at  another  garage,  he  had  disappeared,  apparently, 
into  thin  air. 

Nevertheless,  Dick  and  I  formed  a  theory  that  the  new  auto- 
mobile, of  which  we  had  heard  so  many  rumours,  was  actually  in 
Biarritz;  that  it  had  been  driven  into  the  town  after  dark,  and 
was  now  being  kept  by  some  friend  of  Carmona's  in  a  private 
garage.  And  if  we  were  right  in  our  conjectures,  we  felt  we  might 
take  it  as  a  sure  sign  that  the  Duke  was  not  only  planning  an  im- 


PUZZLE:  FIND  THE  CAR  39 

portant  tour,  but  was  not  forgetting  a  detail  of  precaution  which 
could  prevent  my  learning  his  intentions. 

As  we  could  not  set  a  watch  upon  the  chauffeur,  we  set  a  watch 
upon  the  Duke;  and  it  was  Ropes  who,  with  considerable  relish, 
undertook  the  task.  I  did  not  wish  to  bring  a  stranger  into  the 
affair;  and  Ropes  I  could  trust  as  I  trusted  myself.  Therefore 
Ropes  it  was  who  unobtrusively  dogged  Carmona's  footsteps 
from  the  time  the  Duke  went  out  in  the  morning,  up  to  the 
time  he  went  in  again  at  night. 

Meanwhile,  Dick  took  steps  to  become  correspondent  for  The 
Daily  Despatch  of  London,  and  The  New  York  Recorder,  the 
editors  of  which  papers  he  knew  personally.  He  spent  a  great  deal 
of  money  in  wiring  long  messages,  but  his  reward  was  success, 
and,  as  he  said,  he  was  "  proud  of  his  job,"  which  he  intended  to 
carry  out  as  faithfully  as  if  writing  impressions  for  newspapers 
were  the  business  of  his  life. 

Also,  we  got  the  car  repainted ;  bought  lamps  of  a  different  sort ; 
ordered  side  baskets  to  be  attached,  of  a  red  to  match  the  new 
colour;  had  Dick  Waring's  monogram,  in  execrable  taste,  put  on 
the  doors ;  while  last  and  most  important  change  of  all,  from  be- 
ing number  Al2,901,  the  automobile  became,  illegally  but 
convincingly,  M14,317.  Cunningest  device  of  all,  Ropes 
changed  the  wheel-caps  of  my  Gloria  for  those  of  a  Frenzel, 
as  like  a  Gloria  as  a  Fiat  is  like  a  Mercedes;  so  that  only 
an  expert  of  much  experience  would  know  that  the  car  was 
not  a  Frenzel. 

A  quick  dryer  was  used,  and  in  two  days  we  were  ready  for 
anything.  I  still  hoped  for  a  letter  from  Monica,  with  some  hints 
as  to  her  mother's  plans,  but  nothing  came;  and  when  we  had 
had  a  blank  day,  with  no  news  of  activity  in  the  enemy's  camp, 
it  was  a  relief  to  have  Ropes  arrive  at  the  hotel  in  the  morning 
just  as  I  was  dressed. 

I  knew  the  moment  I  saw  his  face  that  something  exciting  had 
happened. 

"  The  Duke's  gone,  my  lord,"  he  reported ;  "  gone  in  a  dark 


40  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

grey,  covered  car;  I  couldn't  get  near  enough  to  make  sure  what 
it  was,  but  it  looks  like  a  Lecomte.  He's  this  moment  got  off." 

"Not    alone?" 

'*  No,  my  lord.  I'll  tell  you  exactly  what  took  place.  I  was  at  the 
window  in  the  little  room  I  hired  over  a  shop  three  days  ago,  in 
sight  of  the  entrance  gates  of  the  Villa  Isabella.  It  was  just  seven 
o'clock  this  morning  when  a  smart,  big  grey  car  drove  in,  might  be 
a  forty  horse,  and  of  the  Lecomte  type.  The  chauffeur  wore  gog- 
gles, but  his  figure  was  like  the  fellow's  who  came  the  other  day  to 
our  garage.  About  half  an  hour  later,  out  slipped  the  car  again, 
the  Duke  driving,  a  lady  sitting  beside  him,  two  other  ladies  in 
the  tonneau,  the  chauffeur  at  the  Duke's  feet,  and  a  good  deal  of 
luggage  on  the  roof.  At  the  gate  they  turned  as  if  to  go  to  San 
Sebastian;  and  I  came  to  let  you  know." 

"  That's  right.  Get  ready  at  once  for  a  start,  and  have  the  car 
here  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  Car's  ready  now,  my  lord,  and  so  am  I." 

"  Good.  But  don't  '  my  lord '  me.  Now  that  I'm  Mr.  George 
Smith  that's  even  more  important  to  remember  than  in  Trevenna 
days.  And  don't  forget  that  the  car's  Mr.  Waring's  car." 

"  I  won't  forget,  sir." 

He  was  off  to  the  garage,  and  I  was  knocking  at  Dick's  door. 

Dick  was  tying  his  necktie.  "  Ready  to  start  in  five  minutes,'* 
said  he. 

"  How  did  you  guess  what  was  up  ?  " 

"Your  face,  d'Artagnan." 

"  Why  d'Artagnan  ?  Haven't  I  a  large  enough  variety  of  names 
already  ?  " 

"  I've  selected  one  suitable  for  the  situation.  D'Artagnan  took 
upon  himself  a  mission.  So  have  you;  and  you'll  have  as  many 
difficulties  to  overcome  before  you  fulfil  it,  if  you  do,  as  he  had." 

"  Nonsense.  We're  starting  out  to  keep  in  touch  with  another 
party  of  motorists." 

"In  a  country  forbidden  to  one  of  us." 

"  That  one  can  look  out  for  himself.  If  a  lady  in  another  motor 


PUZZLE:  FIND  THE  CAR  41 

should  need  someone  to  stand  by  her,  we're  to  be  on  the  spot  to 
stand  by,  that's  all." 

"Yes;  that's  all,"  said  Dick,  laughing.  "And  all  that  d'Artag- 
nan  had  to  do  was  to  get  hold  of  a  few  diamond  studs  which  a 
lady  wanted  to  wear  at  a  ball.  Sounds  simple,  eh  ?  But  d'Artag- 
nan  had  some  fun  on  the  way,  and  I'd  bet  the  last  dollar  in  my 
pile  we  will.  Hang  this  necktie!  There;  I'm  ready.  Have  we  time 
for  coffee  and  a  crust  ?  " 


vn 

THE  IMPRUDENCE  OF  SHOWING  A  HANDKERCHIEF 

FIFTEEN  minutes  later  we  were  off. 
I  love   driving   my  car,  as  I  love  the  breath  of  life, 
and  I'm  conceited  enough  to  fancy  that  no  one  else, 
not  even  Ropes,  can   get  out  of  her  what  I  can.  Still, 
this  was  not  destined  to  be  precisely  a  pleasure  trip,  and  prudence 
bade  me  give  the  helm  to  Dick.  He  is  a  good  enough  driver;  and 
the  car  was  his  car  now;  I  was  but  an  insignificant  passenger, 
with  a  case  of  visiting  cards  in  his  pocket,  newly  engraved  with 
the  name  of  Mr.  George  Smith.  I  sat  on  the  front  seat  beside 
Dick,  however,  silently  criticising  his  every  move;  Ropes  was  in 
the  tonneau ;  such  luggage  as  we  had,  on  top. 

It  was  scarcely  eight  o'clock,  and  there  was  so  little  traffic  in 
the  town  that  we  did  not  need  to  trouble  about  a  legal  limit.  We 
slipped  swiftly  along  the  rough  white  road  to  the  railway  station, 
past  large  villas  and  green  lawns,  and  took  the  sharp  turn  to  the 
right  that  leads  out  from  the  pleasant  land  of  France  straight  to 
romantic  Spain,  the  country  of  my  dreams.  We  sped  past  houses 
that  looked  from  their  deep  sheltering  woods  upon  a  silver  lake, 
and  away  in  the  distance  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  sea.  Before  us 
were  graceful,  piled  mountains,  the  crenelated  mass  of  Les  Trois 
Couronnes  glittering  with  wintry  diamonds.  Against  the  morning 
sky,  stood  up,  clear  and  cold,  the  cone  of  far  La  Rune. 

Looking  ahead,  in  my  ears  sang  the  song  of  my  blood,  sweet 
with  hope,  as  the  name  of  the  girl  I  love  and  the  land  I  love, 
mingled  together  in  music. 

Gaining  the  first  outskirts  of  straggling  St.  Jean  de  Luz  my 

42 


-       THE  SHOWING  OF  A  HANDKERCHIEF          43 

eyes  and  Dick's  fell  at  the  same  time  upon  something  before  us ; 
a  big  grey  automobile,  its  roof  piled  with  luggage,  stationary  by 
the  roadside,  a  chauffeur  busy  jacking  up  the  driving  wheels,  a 
tall  man  standing  to  watch  the  work,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
his  fur  coat.  Instantly  Dick  slowed  down  our  car,  to  lean  out  as 
we  came  within  speaking  distance,  while  I  sat  still,  secure  from 
recognition  behind  elaborately  hideous  goggles. 

"  Is  there  anything  we  can  do  ?  "  asked  Dick  with  the  gener- 
osity of  an  automobilist  in  full  tide  of  fortune  to  another  in  ill 
fortune.  I  noticed  as  he  spoke,  that  he  made  his  American  accent 
as  marked  as  possible;  so  marked,  that  it  was  almost  like  hoisting 
the  stars  and  stripes  over  the  transformed  and  repainted 
Gloria. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Carmona;  for  it  was  he  who  stood  in 
the  road  looking  on  while  his  chauffeur  worked.  He  had  glanced 
up  with  anxiety  and  vexation  on  his  ungoggled,  dark  face,  at 
the  first  sound  of  an  approaching  car,  and  I  knew  well  what 
thought  sprang  into  his  head.  But  a  red  car,  with  an  American 
driving,  was  not  what  he  had  half  expected  to  see.  He  was  visibly 
relieved;  nevertheless,  he  was  slow  enough  in  answering  to  bring 
us  to  a  standstill,  while  he  peered  at  our  wheel-caps. 

The  deceitful  name,  glittering  up  to  his  eyes,  so  evidently  re- 
assured him  that  a  temptation  seized  me,  and  I  yielded  without 
a  struggle. 

I  had  come  prepared  for  a  quick  signal  to  Monica  whenever 
an  opportunity  should  arise,  and,  as  I  was  anxious  to  let  her 
know  that  she  was  not  unprotected,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
first  chance  of  doing  so  was  better  than  the  second. 

In  an  inner  breast  pocket  of  my  coat  I  had  the  lace  handker- 
chief which  I  had  stolen  on  the  night  of  the  ball.  As  Dick  ques- 
tioned Carmona,  and  Carmona  answered,  I  flashed  out  the  wisp 
of  lace  and  passed  it  across  my  lips,  not  turning  to  look  full  at 
the  slim,  grey-coated  figure  on  the  front  seat,  yet  conscious  by 
a  side  glance  that  a  veiled  face  regarded  us. 

What  I  did  was  done  so  quickly,  that  I  think  it  would  have 


44  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

passed  unnoticed  by  the  Duke;  but  Monica,  taken  completely 
by  surprise,  bent  suddenly  forward ;  then,  remembering  the  need 
for  caution,  hurriedly  leaned  back  against  the  cushions. 

Cannona  caught  her  nervous  movement,  saw  how  self- 
consciously, almost  rigidly,  she  sat  when  she  had  recovered 
herself,  and,  suspicion  instantly  alert,  turned  a  searchlight 
gaze  on  us. 

The  lace  handkerchief  had  vanished.  I  was  sitting  indiffer- 
ently, with  arms  folded,  my  interest  concentrated  upon  the  busy 
chauffeur.  Still  I  felt  there  was  no  detail  of  my  figure  and  motor- 
ing clothes  that  Cannona  was  not  noting  as  he  explained  to  Dick 
the  nature  of  his  mishap. 

"A  simple  puncture,"  he  said.  "And  we  have  all  necessary 
means  to  mend  it,  thank  you." 

Dick  and  I  lifted  our  caps  to  the  ladies  and  went  our  way;  but 
it  was  not  until  we  had  passed  the  charming  Renaissance  house 
where  Louis  Quatorze  was  born,  that  Waring  made  any  com- 
ment on  the  incident. 

"If  that  Moor-faced  chap  isn't  on  to  the  game,  he's  getting 
mighty  *  warm,'  as  the  children  say,"  he  remarked  dryly. 

"He  can't  possibly  be  certain,"  said  I.  "Even  if  he  saw  my 
face,  he  couldn't  swear  to  identifying  it,  as  the  only  sight  he  ever 
had  of  me  was  in  that  asinine,  yellow  Romeo  wig.  Besides, 
Romeo  had  no  moustache,  and,  thanks  to  your  advice,  I  have. 
It's  the  one  thing  that's  conspicuous  under  the  goggles." 

"  A  sort  of  'coming  event  casting  its  shadow  before.'  I  didn't 
say  he  knew.  I  said  he  guessed.  See  here,  while  he's  waiting  for 
his  tyre,  could  we  wire  from  this  town  to  the  frontier  in  time  to 
have  you  stopped  ?  " 

"  We  ought  to  get  there  before  any  telegram  he  could  send," 
said  I,  hopefully.  "However,  there'll  be  a  lot  of  formalities  at 
the  custom-house.  They  might  catch  us  before  we  finished.  But, 
uncertain  as  he  must  be,  it  would  hardly  be  worth  his  while  — " 

"  I  wouldn't  bet  much  on  that,"  said  Dick. 

"  Let's  rush  it,"  said  I. 


THE  SHOWING  OF  A  HANDKERCHIEF          45 

"Too  risky.  You'd  feel  such  a  limp  ass  to  be  detained  by  a 
fat  policeman  at  the  door  of  Spain,  while  Carmona  and  Lady 
Monica  went  through,  and  disappeared." 

"  I'd  shoot  the  fat  policeman  first." 

"  There  you  are,  being  Spanish  again,  just  when  you  ought  to 
develop  a  little  horse-sense." 

This  put  me  on  my  mettle,  and  in  two  minutes  I  had  thought 
out  a  plan,  while  Dick  whistled  and  reflected. 

It  was  rather  an  odd  plan,  and  could  only  be  carried  out  by 
the  aid  of  another.  But  that  other  had  never  failed  me  yet,  when 
loyalty  or  devotion  were  needed;  and  I  had  not  got  out  half  the 
suggestion  when  he  understood  all,  and  begged  to  do  what  I 
had  hardly  liked  to  ask. 

We  took  exactly  eight  minutes,  by  Dick's  watch,  in  making 
arrangements  to  meet  an  emergency  which  I  hoped  might  not 
arise  if  our  speed  were  good  and  our  luck  held. 

Already  Hendaye,  the  last  French  town,  was  but  just  beyond 
our  sight.  We  ran  through  it  at  high  speed,  passed  on  through 
little  Behobie;  and  next  moment  our  tyres  were  rolling  through 
a  brown  mixture  of  French  and  Spanish  mud  on  the  international 
bridge  that  crosses  the  swirling  Bidasoa.  We  had  passed  from 
Gaul  to  Iberia.  At  the  central  iron  lamp-post,  carrying  on  one 
side  the  "  R.  F."  of  France,  on  the  other  the  Royal  Arms  of  Spain, 
I  lifted  my  cap  in  salutation  to  my  native  land,  just  where,  had 
I  been  an  Englishman,  I  should  have  lifted  it  to  memories  of 
grand  old  Wellington. 

The  broad  river  was  rushing,  green  and  swift,  down  to  Fuen- 
terrabia  and  the  sea,  eddying  past  the  little  lie  des  Faisans,  where 
so  much  history  has  keen  made;  where  Cardinals  treated  for 
royal  marriages;  where  Francis  the  First,  a  prisoner,  was  ex- 
changed for  his  two  sons.  We  were  across  the  dividing  water 
now,  in  Irun,  and  on  Spanish  soil.  High-collared  Spanish  soldiers 
lounging  by  their  sentry  boxes,  looked  keenly  at  us,  but  made 
no  move,  little  guessing  that  the  accused  bomb-thrower  of  Bar- 
celona was  driving  past  them  through  this  romantic  gate  to  Spain. 


46  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

We  turned  abruptly  to  the  right,  and,  hoping  still  to  escape  trou- 
ble, pulled  up  at  the  custom-house. 

To  hurry  a  Spanish  official,  I  had  often  heard  my  father  say, 
in  old  days,  is  a  thing  impossible,  and  we  avoided  an  air  of  anxie- 
ty. The  three  men  in  the  big  red  car  appeared  to  desire  nothing 
better  than  to  linger  in  the  society  of  the  douaniers.  Nevertheless, 
the  chauffeur  was  as  brisk  in  his  movements  as  he  dared  to  be. 

He  it  was  who  jumped  from  the  tonneau,  and  in  passable 
Spanish  asked  our  inquisitor  which,  if  any,  of  our  suit-cases  he 
wished  to  open.  At  the  same  instant  a  propitiatory  cigarette  was 
offered  and  accepted. 

Carefully  the  overcoated  man  selected  with  his  eye  a  piece  of 
luggage  on  the  car  roof.  Luck  was  with  us.  It  was  the  one  easiest 
to  unlock. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  (an  American,  not  a  Spanish  eye), 
the  thing  was  down  and  in  the  office.  The  douanier  was  about 
to  inspect,  in  his  leisured  way,  when  a  peasant  entered  with  some 
bags  to  be  weighed. 

Naturally  the  official  fell  into  chat  with  the  new-comer,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  remind  him  that  we  had  the  right  of  pre- 
cedence. Every  moment  was  of  importance,  for  already  there 
was  time  for  a  telegram  to  have  arrived.  Presently  there  would 
be  time  for  its  instructions  to  be  acted  on  as  well.  And  at  this 
moment  I  realized,  as  I  had  not  fully  realized  before,  all  that  it 
would  mean  to  me  of  humiliation  and  defeat  to  fail  ignominiously 
on  the  threshold  of  my  adventure. 

It  was  hard  to  show  no  impatience  as  the  douanier's  lazy, 
cigarette-stained  hand  wandered  among  the  contents  of  the  suit- 
case. When  any  article  puzzled  him,  he  paused ;  another  precious 
minute  gone.  But  eventually,  having  had  a  safety-razor  explain- 
ed, he  was  satisfied  with  the  inspection  of  the  luggage,  and  indi- 
cated that  it  might  be  replaced.  Then  came  the  question  of  the 
deposit  of  money  for  the  car,  on  entering  Spain. 

Very  carefully  did  the  imperturbable  official  examine  each 
Spanish  bank-note  we  tendered ;  laboriously  did  he  make  out 


THE  SHOWING  OF  A  HANDKERCHIEF         47 

the  receipt.  Had  he  meant  to  detain  us,  his  movements,  his  words, 
could  not  have  been  more  deliberate.  How  I  had  longed  to  hear 
again  the  Spanish  language  spoken  by  Spaniards  in  Spain,  yet 
how  little  was  I  able  to  appreciate  the  fulfilment  of  my  long- 
cherished  wish!  At  last,  however,  every  formality  was  complied 
with,  and  we  were  free  to  go. 

With  all  speed  we  took  our  man  at  his  word.  The  leather-coat- 
ed, leather-legginged  chauffeur  set  the  engine's  heart  going  in 
time  with  his  own,  flung  himself  into  the  tonneau,  and  had  not  shut 
the  door  when  Waring  slipped  in  the  clutch,  muttering  "  Hooray ! " 

Another  second  and  we  should  have  been  beyond  recall;  but 
hardly  was  the  brake  off  than  it  had  to  go  crashing  on  again  to 
avoid  running  over  a  sergeant  and  two  soldiers  who  rushed  up 
and  sprang  in  front  of  us,  puffing  with  unwonted  haste. 

In  his  hand  the  sergeant  held  an  open  telegram. 

"  You  speak  Spanish  ?  "  he  panted. 

"A  little,"  said  Dick.  " French  better." 

"I  have  no  French,  senor,"  replied  the  sergeant,  "But  my 
business  is  not  so  much  with  you  as  with  this  gentleman,"  he 
glanced  at  the  telegram,  "  in  the  grey  coat  with  the  fur  collar,  the 
grey  cap,  the  goggles  in  a  grey  felt  mask,  the  small  dark  mous- 
tache, the  grey  buckskin  gloves."  (Carmona  had  noticed  every- 
thing.) "Our  instructions  are  to  prevent  the  Marques  de  Casa 
Triana  from  going  into  Spain." 

"Casa  Triana?  What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Dick.  Then  he 
laughed.  "  Is  the  person  you're  talking  about  a  Spaniard  ?  " 

"  He  is,  senor." 

Dick  laughed  a  great  deal  more.  "  Well,  I  guess  you'll  have  to 
look  somewhere  else.  There's  a  mistake.  The  gentleman  in  the 
grey  coat  and  all  the  other  grey  things  has  hardly  enough  Spanish 
to  know  what  you're  driving  at." 

The  sergeant  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  determined. 
"  There  is  no  mistake  in  my  instructions,  senor.  I  am  sorry,  but 
it  is  my  duty  to  detain  that  gentleman.  If  there  is  an  error  there 
will  be  apologies." 


48  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  I  should  say  there  jolly  well  was  an  error,"  sputtered  Dick, 
in  his  wild  combination  of  Spanish  and  English  and  American. 
**  George,  show  your  card.  He  thinks  you're  a  Spaniard,  who's 
'wanted.'" 

The  gentleman  in  the  grey  coat  showed  the  visiting  cards  of 
Mr.  George  Smith,  and  the  Spanish  soldier  examined  them 
gloomily.  "  Anybody  might  have  these,"  said  he,  half  to  us,  half 
to  a  group  of  his  countrymen.  "  Senor,  I  must  reluctantly  ask 
you  to  descend  and  to  come  with  me.  It  will  be  much  better  to 
do  so  quietly." 

"  Of  all  the  monstrous  indignities,"  shouted  Dick.  "  I'm  a  news- 
paper correspondent  on  a  special  detail.  I'll  wire  the  American 
minister  in  Madrid,  and  the  English  Ambassador  too.  I'll  — " 

But  the  gentleman  in  the  grey  coat  had  obeyed  the  sergeant. 
He  had  also  taken  off  his  goggles. 

"  It  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  hours,  or  a  few  days,"  said  he  in 
English.  "  You  must  go  on.  Don't  worry  about  me." 

"  Go  on  without  you  ?"  echoed  Dick,  breaking  again  into  as- 
tonishing Spanish  for  the  benefit  of  the  official.  "Well,  if  you 
really  don't  mind,  as  I'm  in  the  dickens  of  a  hurry.  You  can 
follow  by  train,  you  know,  as  soon  as  you've  proved  to  these 
blunderers  that  you're  George  Smith." 

"  If  you  are  Senor  George  Smith,  you  will  be  free  as  soon  as 
the  photograph  of  the  Marques  de  Casa  Triana  has  been  sent  on 
by  the  police  at  Madrid,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  If  not  —  "  he  did 
not  finish  his  sentence;  but  the  break  was  significant.  And  the 
soldiers  closed  in  to  separate  the  alleged  George  Smith  from  his 
companions  of  the  car,  lest  at  the  last  moment  they  should  at- 
tempt a  rescue. 

"  We'll  make  them  sorry  for  this,  George,"  said  Dick.  "  But 
as  we  really  can't  do  much  for  you  here,  we'll  get  on  somewhere 
else,  where  we  can." 

'*  I  must  ask  also  for  the  name  of  the  owner  of  this  automobile, 
and  for  that  of  his  chauffeur,"  insisted  the  sergeant,  "  before  I 
can  let  you  go." 


THE  SHOWING  OF  A  HANDKERCHIEF          49 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Dick,  crossly,  producing  his  passport, 
and  cards  with  the  names  of  the  papers  for  which  he  had  engaged 
to  correspond.  "  Ropes,  fork  out  your  credentials." 

The  chauffeur  brought  forth  his  French  papers,  and  pointed 
to  the  name  of  Peter  Ropes.  The  sergeant  industriously  wrote 
down  everything  in  his  note-book,  a  greasy  and  forbidding  one. 

"It  is  satisfactory,"  he  said  with  dignity;  "you  can  proceed, 
senores." 

The  engine  had  not  been  stopped  during  the  scene;  and  as  the 
gentleman  in  the  grey  coat  was  marched  off  to  the  guard-house 
with  a  jostling  Spanish  crowd  at  his  heels,  the  red  car  in  which  he 
had  lately  been  a  passenger  slipped  away  and  left  him  behind. 

Through  the  streets  of  Irun  it  passed  at  funeral  pace,  as  if  in 
respect  and  regret  for  a  friend  who  was  lost;  but  once  out  in  the 
green,  undulating  country  beyond,  it  put  on  a  great  spurt  of 
speed,  after  the  chauffeur  had  scrambled  into  the  front  seat. 

"  Great  Scott,  but  I'm  as  hot  as  if  I'd  come  out  of  a  Turkish 
bath,"  growled  Dick. 

"  It  was  a  warm  ten  minutes,"  said  I.  "  Poor  old  Ropes  — 
bless  him ! "  And  I  sent  back  a  sigh  of  gratitude  to  the  staunch 
friend  in  my  grey  overcoat,  cap,  goggles,  and  gloves,  to  whose 
loyalty  I  owed  freedom. 


HERE  I  was  in  Spain,  my  Spain  —thanks  to  Ropes; 
and,  again  thanks  to  him,  probably  out  of  danger 
from  Carmona's  suspicions  for  some  time  to  come, 
barring  accidents. 

He  worM  make  inquiries  at  Irun  when  he  arrived  there,  and 
learning  that  the  obnoxious  person  had  been  detained  according 
to  information  received  from  him,  would  pass  on  triumphantly. 
Even  when  fate  brought  his  car  and  ours  together,  as  I  hoped  it 
often  would,  a  sight  of  the  two  remaining  travellers,  the  American 
automobilist  and  his  hideously-goggled  chauffeur,  would  cause 
him  amusement  rather  than  uneasiness. 

He  would  say  to  himself  that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  no 
harm  had  been  done,  even  if  no  good  had  been  accomplished ; 
for  if  the  banished  passenger  were  indeed  Casa  Triana,  he  had 
done  well  to  get  rid  of  him.  If,  after  all,  his  quick  suspicion  had 
been  too  far-fetched,  and  he  had  caused  the  arrest  of  an  innocent 
tourist,  that  tourist  would  never  know  to  whom  he  owed  his 
adventure,  and  would  be  powerless  to  trouble  the  Duke  of 
Carmona.  As  for  Ropes,  when  the  photograph  taken  of  me 
years  ago  by  the  police  in  Barcelona  should  reach  the  police  in 
Irun,  it  would  be  seen  that  two  young  men  who  are  twenty-seven, 
tall,  slim,  and  have  dark  moustaches,  do  not  necessarily  resemble 
each  other  in  other  details.  Mr.  George  Smith  would  be  gener- 
ously pardoned  for  having  occupied  the  attention  of  the  police 
in  place  of  the  Marques  de  Casa  Triana,  and  he  would  be  free 
to  rejoin  his  fellow-travellers. 

50 


OVER  THE  BORDER  51 

During  the  three  or  four  minutes  of  discussion  we  had  had 
before  making  the  "quick  change"  which  transformed  master 
into  man,  we  had  arranged  to  communicate  with  Ropes  by 
means  of  advertisements  in  La  Independencia.  We  would  forward 
money  in  advance  to  that  journal,  enough  to  pay  for  several 
advertisements,  and  could  then  telegraph  our  whereabouts  at 
the  last  minute,  whenever  the  movements  of  Carmona's  car  gave 
us  our  cue. 

This  was  the  best  arrangement  we  could  make  in  a  hurry,  and 
when  we  had  time  to  reflect,  it  did  not  seem  to  us  that,  in  the 
circumstances,  we  could  have  done  better. 

And  so,  come  what  might,  the  outlaw  had  crossed  the  border, 
and  was  in  the  forbidden  country  of  his  hopes  and  heart. 

In  spite  of  compunction  on  Ropes'  account,  I  was  happy, 
desperately  happy.  I  was  free  to  watch  over  the  girl  I  loved  and 
who  loved  me;  and  I  was  drinking  in  the  air  of  the  fatherland. 
It  did  actually  seem  sweeter  and  more  life-giving  than  in  any 
other  part  of  the  world. 

Dick  laughed  when  I  mentioned  this  impression,  and  said  I 
ought  to  try  the  climate  of  America  before  I  judged ;  but  he  ad- 
mitted the  extraordinary,  yet  almost  indefinable  individuality 
of  the  landscape  as  well  as  the  architecture,  which  struck  the  eye 
instantly  on  crossing  the  frontier. 

It  was  easy  to  classify  as  peculiarly  Spanish  the  old  Basque 
churches,  the  long,  dark  lines  of  sombre  houses  bristling  with 
little  balconies,  and  sparkling  with  projecting  windows,  whose 
intricate  glass  panes  gave  upward  currents  of  air  in  hot  weather. 
All  this,  and  much  more  was  obvious  in  town  or  village;  but  Dick 
and  I  argued  over  the  distinctive  features  of  the  landscape  with- 
out fathoming  the  mystery  which  set  it  apart  from  other  land- 
scapes. 

What  was  so  peculiar  ?  There  were  hedges,  and  poplars,  and 
other  trees  which  we  had  seen  a  thousand  times  elsewhere. 
There  was  a  pretty,  though  not  extravagantly  pretty,  switchback 
road  of  fair  surface  stretching  before  us,  roughly  parallel  with 


52  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

the  sea,  giving  glimpses  here  and  there  of  landlocked  harbours 
with  colliers  and  trampships  at  anchor.  There  was  a  far  back- 
ground of  snow  mountains  and  a  changing  foreground  of  spring 
grass  and  spring  blossoms;  interlacing  branches  embroidered 
with  new  leaves  of  that  pinky  yellow  which  comes  before  the 
summer  green. 

There  ought  to  have  .been  nothing  remarkable,  save  for  the 
moving  figures  which  here  and  there  rendered  it  pictorial;  dark, 
upstanding  men  in  red  waistcoats,  driving  donkeys;  velvet -eyed 
girls,  with  no  covering  for  their  heads  but  their  shining  crowns  of 
jet-black  hair,  and  none  at  all  for  their  tanned  feet  and  ankles, 
though  they  carried  shoes  in  their  hands;  black-robed  priests 5 
brown-robed  monks;  smart  officers;  soldiers  with  stiff,  glittering 
shakos,  and  green  gloves;  oxen  with  pads  of  wool  on  their  classic, 
biscuit-coloured  heads.  Nevertheless,  Dick  agreed  with  me  in 
finding  the  landscape  remarkable. 

At  last  we  began  to  wonder  if  the  difference  did  not  lie  in 
colouring  and  atmosphere.  The  sky  effects  were  radiant  enough 
to  set  the  soul  of  an  artist  singing,  because  of  the  opal  lights, 
the  violet  banks  of  cloud  with  ragged,  crystal  fringes  of  rain, 
the  diamond  gleams  struck  out  from  snow  peaks;  and  yet, 
despite  this  ethereal  radiance,  there  was  a  strange  solemnity 
about  the  wide  reaches  of  Spanish  country,  a  rich  gloom  that 
brooded  over  the  landscape  with  its  thoughtful  colouring,  never 
for  a  moment  brilliant,  never  gay. 

"It's  painted  glass-window  country,"  I  said.  "Old  glass, 
painted  by  some  famous  artist  who  died  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, and  a  little  faded  —  no,  subdued  by  time. " 

"  You've  hit  it, "  said  Dick.  "  There  is  an  old-glass-window-in- 
a-dim-cathedral  look  about  the  sky.  It  gives  one  a  religious  kind 
of  feeling,  or  anyway,  as  if  you'd  be  thrown  out  of  the  picture 
if  you  were  too  frivolous. "  w 

"  I  feel  far  from  frivolous, "  said  I.  "  But  I'm  excited.  Look 
here;  we'll  be  in  San  Sebastian  and  out  of  San  Sebastian  soon, 
if  we  keep  on.  But  we  mustn't  keep  on;  for  if  we  do  we  may  miss 


OVER  THE  BORDER  53 

the  other  car,  and  then  I  should  be  as  badly  off  as  if  I  were  in 
Ropes'  place  at  Irun." 

"  We  know  they're  going  to  Seville, "  said  Dick. 

"  It's  a  long  cry  to  Seville.  And  Cannona  may  mean  to  travel 
by  way  of  Madrid,  through  Vitoria  and  Burgos,  or  he  may  mean 
to  take  a  road  which  Levavasseur  in  Biarritz  told  me  was  better, 
steering  for  Seville  via  Santander  and  Salamanca.  It  depends  on 
whether  he  wants  to  stop  at  the  capital,  I  suppose.  Anyhow,  as 
he's  unconsciously  making  our  arrangements  as  well  as  his  own, 
there's  nothing  for  it  but  we  must  halt  until  he  passes  and  gives 
us  our  lead. " 

"  It's  all  the  same  to  me  whether  we  halt  or  scorch,"  said  Dick. 
"  I've  got  more  time  than  anything  else.  This  is  your  circus;  I'm 
only  the  'prisoner's  best  friend,'  as  they  say  in  a  court-martial. 
But  if  we  should  go  to  Burgos,  I've  got  an  errand  to  do,  if  you 
don't  mind." 

"Why  should  I  mind?"  I  asked. 

"  It's  to  call  on  a  young  lady. " 

"  You  never  mentioned  having  friends  there. " 

"She's  Angele  de  la  Mole's  friend.  All  I  know  is  that  she's 
Irish,  name  O'Donnel;  that  she's  got  a  harmless,  necessary 
father,  and  a  brother  in  whom  my  prophetic  soul  tells  me  Angele 
is  interested;  that  Papa  and  Daughter  are  visiting  Brother, 
who's  in  the  Spanish  army  for  some  weird  unexplained  reason, 
and  stationed  in  Burgos.  I  promised  to  take  a  package  with  a 
present  from  Angele  to  Miss  O'Donnel  if  we  stopped  long  enough 
at  Burgos,  or,  if  we  didn't  go  there,  to  post  it.  I've  also  a  letter  in- 
troducing us  to  Papa.  Angele  said  it  was  possible  he  might  have 
known  your  father,  so  probably  he's  lived  a  good  deal  in  Spain 
at  one  time  or  another,  or  the  idea  wouldn't  have  occurred  to  her. 
She  thought,  if  we  went  to  see  the  O'Donnels,  Papa  might  be 
useful  in  case  you  told  him  who  you  really  were;  but  I  wasn't 
to  bother  you  about  going  out  of  your  way  for  their  sakes;  which 
is  the  reason  I  didn't  mention  them  until  now,  when  you  spoke 
of  Burgos. " 


64  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"If  Carmona  goes  in  that  direction,  he's  almost  certain  to 
spend  the  night  there, "  said  I,  on  the  strength  of  such  knowledge 
as  much  study  of  Spanish  road-maps  had  given  me.  "In  that 
case,  we  shall  spend  the  night  too,  and  there'll  be  time  for  you 
to  call  on  your  O'Donnels;  but  as  for  me,  I  don't  know  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  take  extraneous  people  into  my  confidence. 
And,  if  it  won't  disappoint  you,  I  hope  we  won't  have  to  go  by 
Burgos,  although  they  say  the  cathedral's  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world,  for  if  the  road's  as  bad  as  rumour  paints  it,  it  must  be 
abominable. " 

"  Well,  you've  got  your  springs  bound  up  with  a  million  yards 
of  stout  cord,  on  purpose;  and  those  extra  buffers  of  India 
rubber  Ropes  put  on  to  keep  the  tyres  from  grinding  against  the 
mud  guards;  so  we  ought  to  get  off  pretty  well  at  worst,"  re- 
marked Dick.  "As  for  me,  I  shall  feel  defrauded  if  the  car 
doesn't  soon  begin  to  bound  like  a  chamois  from  one  frightful 
obstacle  to  another,  along  the  surface  of  the  road,  such  ghastly 
things  have  been  dinned  into  my  ears  about  Castile  and  La 
Mancha.  So  far,  we've  nothing  to  complain  of,  and  have  been  on 
velvet,  compared  to  some  of  the  pave  atrocities  one  remembers 
in  Belgium  and  northern  France. " 

"I  daresay  we  shall  come  to  the  chamois  act  yet,"  said  I. 
"But,  so  far,  we're  still  in  the  heart  of  civilization.  Here's  San 
Sebastian,  and  here's  a  cafe  close  to  where  Carmona  must  pass, 
so  let's  stop  and  lie  in  wait. " 


IX 

A  STERN  CHASE 

"^T  "JT  ^E  were  on  the  outskirts  of  San  Sebastian,  and  to 
%  f\  J  reach  the  cafe  we  turned  off  the  main  road  and 

•r  Mf  ran  the  car  into  a  side  street.  There,  without 
being  ourselves  conspicuous,  we  could  see  all 
that  passed  along  the  road  beyond.  We  had  some  vermouth,  sit- 
ting at  a  little  iron  table  outside  the  cafe  door,  to  excuse  our 
presence.  Every  moment  we  expected  to  see  the  Duke's  car 
shoot  by,  but  time  went  on,  and  it  did  not  come.  We  finished  our 
first  edition  of  vermouth  and  had  a  second,  with  which  we  toyed 
and  did  not  drink,  by  way  of  -keeping  our  place. 

Had  they  punctured  another  tyre  ?  Had  Carmona  stopped  in 
Irun,  and  had  any  mischance  occurred  there  which  might,  after 
all,  put  the  police  on  my  track  ? 

Dick  and  I  were  beginning  to  get  restive,  and  question  each 
other  with  raised  eyebrows,  when  the  big  grey  automobile 
charged  past  the  end  of  our  street.  Not  a  head  in  the  car  turned 
in  our  direction;  and  laying  a  couple  of  pesetas  on  the  table  we 
sprang  to  the  manning  of  our  own  road-ship.  So  quick  was  our 
start  that,  when  we  spun  out  into  the  road,  there  was  our  leader 
still  within  sight. 

I  had  heard  my  father  speak  often  of  San  Sebastian,  which, 
situated  in  the  heart  of  the  Basque  country,  had  been  the  great 
Carlist  centre,  and  even  when  Carlist  hopes  died,  retained  most 
stoutly  the  Carlist  traditions.  But,  Carlist  as  he  was  at  heart 
till  the  day  of  his  death,  he  could  not  fail  to  appreciate  the  tact 
of  Queen  Cristina,  by  whose  wish  a  royal  summer  villa  had  risen 

55 


56  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

over  the  waters  of  the  bay.  Owing  to  this  stroke  of  clever  policy, 
a  poor  and  discontented  town  was  transformed  into  the  most 
fashionable  watering  place  of  Spain,  and  surely  if  slowly  dis- 
affection merged  into  prosperous  self-satisfaction. 

Because  of  stories  I  had  heard  my  father  tell,  I  should  have 
liked  to  explore  the  place;  but  the  one  thing  of  importance  now 
was  to  keep  the  grey  car  in  sight  until  we  could  be  certain  which 
road  it  would  take;  so  there  was  time  only  for  brief  glances  to 
right  and  left  as  we  flashed  on. 

Through  streets  with  high  modern  houses,  more  Parisian  than 
Spanish,  we  came  at  last  upon  a  broad  boulevard  that  led  us 
by  the  sea.  There  had  been  a  picture  at  home  of  the  deep,  shell- 
like  bay,  guarded  by  the  imposing  headlands  of  Monte  Urgull 
and  Monte  Igueldo,  the  scene  of  much  fighting  in  the  Carlist 
war.  The  royal  palace,  Villa  Miramar,  was  new  to  me  save  for 
the  many  photographs  I  had  seen  of  it  in  Biarritz ;  but  we  had 
no  more  than  a  glimpse  of  the  unpretending  red  brick  house  on 
the  hill,  before  we  swept  through  a  tunnel  that  pierced  a  rocky 
headland,  and  came  out  into  open  country. 

Now  our  progress  developed  into  a  stern  chase.  By  a  wrong 
turn  in  a  San  Sebastian  street  we  lost  the  car  ahead  for  a  few 
moments,  but  beyond  the  town,  where  mud,  fresh  after  a  recent 
shower,  lay  inch  thick  on  the  road,  we  came  upon  the  track  of  the 
flying  foe. 

There  was  the  trail  of  the  "  pneus  "  as  clear  to  read  as  a  written 
message,  and  we  followed,  relieved  of  doubt. 

On,  on  we  went  towards  the  south,  and  the  mountains  of 
Navarre,  and  my  mind  was  free  enough  from  strain  at  last  to 
exult  in  each  new  glimpse  of  the  land  for  which  I  longed. 

Ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to  read,  I  had  steeped  myself  in 
the  history  and  legend  of  my  own  country.  I  knew  all  its  wars, 
and  where  they  were  fought;  I  knew  the  names  of  the  towns 
and  villages,  insignificant  in  themselves,  perhaps,  made  famous 
by  great  victories  or  defeats;  and  there  was  time  to  think  of  them 
now,  as  we  passed  along  the  way  the  heroes  of  the  Peninsular 


A  STERN  CHASE  57 

War  had  taken;  but  there  was  no  time  to  linger  over  landmarks, 
not  even  at  Hernani,  where  De  Lacy  Evans'  British  legion  was 
shattered  by  the  Carlist  army  in  1836,  and  where,  in  the  church, 
we  might  have  seen  the  tomb  of  that  Spanish  soldier  who,  at 
Pavia,  took  prisoner  Francis  I. 

Rain  fell  in  swift,  fierce  downpourings,  but  left  us  dry  under 
the  cover  of  our  car;  and  as  we  sped  on,  sudden  gleams  of  sun- 
light shining  on  the  wet  stone  pavements  of  small  brown  villages, 
turned  the  streets  to  glittering  silver;  while  beyond,  the  trees 
sprayed  gold  like  magic  fountains  against  the  white  sheen  of  far 
snow-peaks. 

Thus  we  ran  up  the  winding  road  by  the  river  Urumea, 
worming  our  way  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains ;  climbing 
ever  higher  with  a  wider  view  unfolding  to  our  eyes  —  a  view 
as  new,  as  strange  to  me  as  to  Dick  Waring.  And  yet  I  felt  at 
home  with  it,  as  if  I  had  known  it  always. 

As  we  ascended,  the  roads  did  what  they  could  to  deserve 
their  evil  reputation.  The  rain  of  a  few  days  ago  had  been  snow 
in  the  mountains.  The  surface  of  the  road  became  like  glue, 
and  despite  non-skidding  bands,  and  Waring's  careful  steering, 
the  car  declared  a  sporting  tendency  to  waltz.  Presently  the  glue 
liquefied.  We  were  speeding  through  sheets  of  yellow  soup, 
which  spouted  from  our  pneus  in  two  great  curving  waves, 
spattering  from  head  to  foot  the  few  wayfarers  we  met.  Down 
the  front  glass  coursed  a  cataract  of  mud,  and  Waring  could 
steer  only  by  looking  out  sideways.  Thrown  up  by  the  steering- 
wheels,  the  yellow  torrent  thudded  on  the  roof,  so  that  we  were 
driving  under  a  flying  arch  of  liquid  Spanish  earth. 

With  the  approach  to  a  town,  however,  the  way  improved. 
The  place  was  Tolosa,  and  at  the  sound  of  our  motor  in  the 
distance,  a  cry  of  "  Automovile,  automovile, "  came  shrilly  from  a 
score  of  childish  throats.  Even  the  grown-ups  rushed  out,  and  were 
far  more  excited  than  we  should  have  expected  in  this  motor- 
frequented  part  of  Spain  between  Biarritz  and  Madrid.  In  a 
French  town  of  the  same  size  scarcely  a  head  would  be  turned 


58  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

if  an  automobile  passed;  here  people  were  as  pleased  as  if  we 
had  been  a  circus,  though  only  a  few  moments  before  they  must 
have  had  the  joy  of  seeing  Carmona's  car  go  by. 

"  If  it's  like  this  in  the  north,  what  must  it  be  south  of  Mad- 
rid?" said  I.  "Here  they're  all  wonderfully  good-natured; 
delighted  with  us  in  towns  and  villages  —  I  believe  they'd  pay 
to  see  us  if  they  had  to !  —  the  road-menders  give  military  salutes, 
and  even  the  men  whose  mules  and  donkeys  are  frightened  grin 
as  they  cover  up  the  silly  beasts'  faces  with  their  shawls. " 

"  That's  because  we  behave  like  decent  human  beings  instead 
of  marble-hearted  scorpions,"  said  Dick,  with  an  originality 
of  simile  which  he  cultivates.  "  When  we  see  that  we're  frighten- 
ing anything  we  slow  down,  slip  out  the  clutch,  and  glide  so 
stealthily  by  that  the  creature  gets  no  excuse  for  hysterics.  I 
used  to  think  before  you  taught  me  to  drive,  and  I  had  the  ex- 
perience and  the  responsibility  myself ,  that  you  wasted  time 
grovelling  to  animal  prejudices;  but  I've  changed  my  mind» 
I've  learned  there's  no  fun  to  be  got  out  of  pig-selfishness  on 
the  road,  and  leaving  a  trail  of  distress  behind. " 

"  If  you  hadn't  come  to  feel  that,  I  couldn't  have  made  over 
my  car  to  you,"  said  I.  "Road  brutality  would  be  peculiarly 
brutal  in  Spain,  where  motoring's  a  new  sport,  and  peasants 
must  be  made  accustomed  to  it.  Every  motorist  who  slows 
down  for  frightened  animals,  or  gets  out  to  help,  is  paving  the 
way  for  future  motorists. " 

"Somehow  I  don't  believe  Carmona'll  lay  much  pavement 
for  us, "  said  Dick,  chuckling. 

"  Monica  won't  stand  it  if  he  doesn't, "  said  I.  "  He's  got  her 
sitting  beside  him,  the  beggar;  and  it's  his  metier  to  please 
her." 

We  had  lost  the  trail  of  the  pneus,  but  as  the  country  changed 
we  picked  it  up  again.  We  were  among  trees  now,  and  the  moun- 
tain sides  were  green  with  oak  and  poplar,  though  as  we  dropped 
the  landscape  darkened  into  desolation.  The  bleak  corner  of 
the  world  towards  which  we  were  speeding  had  that  formless, 


A  STERN  CHASE  59 

featureless  look  which  one  sees  on  common  faces,  as  if  it  had 
been  shaken  together  carelessly  by  the  great  Creator  in  an 
absent-minded  moment. 

No  scenery  can  be  unattractive  to  a  motorist  while  his  car 
goes  well,  and  the  sweet  wind  flutters  against  his  face;  but  even 
I  had  to  admit  that  this  country  —  illumined  only  by  snow 
mountains  walling  the  horizon  —  would  be  irredeemable  in  dead 
summer  heats. 

My  map,  which  I  consulted  as  Dick  drove,  said  that  we  had 
passed  out  of  Navarre  into  Alava;  and  suddenly  I  noticed  that 
we  had  crossed  the  watershed,  for  the  bright  streams,  instead 
of  running  down  to  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  were  spinning  silver 
threads  towards  the  Ebro,  on  the  way  to  tumble  into  the  Medi- 
terranean by  Tarragona. 

Here  and  there  my  longing  for  the  strange  and  picturesque 
was  gratified  by  the  tragic  grace  of  a  tall,  ruined  watch-tower 
crowning  a  desolate  hill,  a  vivid  reminder  of  days  when  red  fire- 
signals  flashed  from  hill  to  hill  to  call  good  Christian  men  to 
arms  against  the  Moors.  Sometimes  creamy  billows  of  Pyrenean 
sheep  surged  round  our  car,  graceful  and  beautiful  creatures 
with  streaming  banners  of  wool,  and  faces  only  less  intelligent 
than  those  of  the  grey  dog  that  rallied  them  to  order,  and  the 
brown  shepherd  in  fluttering  garments  of  red  and  blue. 

The  farther  south  we  came,  the  darker  grew  the  mild-eyed 
oxen  our  automobile  frightened.  At  Biarritz  and  beyond  they 
were  pale  biscuit-coloured;  here,  the  sun  seemed  to  have  baked 
them  to  a  richer  brown. 

Nevertheless,  that  sun  had  no  warm  welcome  for  us  to-day. 
We  were  nipped  by  the  bitter  wind,  which  struck  us  the  more 
coldly  as  we  were  hungry;  and  about  two  o'clock  we  were  not 
sorry  to  see  in  the  middle  of  a  wide-stretching  plain,  the  Concha 
de  Alava  —  a  large  town  which  we  knew  to  be  Vitoria. 

Luncheon  there  might  be  counted  upon.  It  was  too  chilly  for 
a  picnic  meal  to  be  feasible  with  ladies,  therefore  Carmona's 
car  must  stop  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  it  was  clear  now  that  he 


60  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

would  go  by  way  of  Burgos;  consequently,  it  was  on  the  cards 
that  Angele  de  la  Mole's  letter  would  be  delivered  by  hand. 

We  sneaked  stealthily  into  Vitoria,  glancing  furtively  about 
for  a  large  grey  Lecomte;  but  it  was  not  long  before  we  caught 
sight  of  it  in  the  distance,  in  the  main  street,  and  drawn  up 
before  the  principal  hotel. 

I  would  have  given  a  good  deal  if  I  could  have  got  word  to 
Monica;  for,  even  if  she  had  happened  to  see  the  red  car  following 
since  Irun,  she  was  probably  miserable  in  the  thought  that  I  had 
been  turned  back  at  the  door  of  Spain. 

Of  course,  in  the  fear  of  disgusting  her,  Carmona  might  have 
kept  the  curtain  down  on  the  little  drama  which  he  had  stage- 
managed.  Concealment  would  have  been  difficult,  however,  as 
he  must  have  signed  his  telegram  to  the  police;  and  on  arriving 
at  the  custom-house,  some  of  the  facts  would  have  been  liable 
to  leak  out  in  Monica's  hearing. 

It  was  hard  that  she  should  be  distressed  for  my  sake  as  well 
as  her  own;  but  my  first  fencing  bout  with  the  Duke  had  warned 
me  against  rashness,  and  I  decided  that  nothing  could  be  done 
till  we  reached  Burgos.  There,  somehow,  I  would  find  a  way  to 
let  her  know  that  it  was  I,  and  not  the  Duke,  who  had  come  out 
best. 

Before  joining  Dick  at  lunch  I  engaged  a  small  boy  who  sold 
newspapers  in  the  street  to  let  us  know  when  the  other  car 
started.  This  was  to  prevent  our  being  given  the  slip  by  any 
chance;  but  it  proved  a  needless  precaution,  as  we  scrambled 
through  a  Spanish  menu,  and  still  the  grey  car  slept  in  its  coat 
of  greyer  mud  before  its  chosen  hotel;  therefore  Dick  and  I 
bolted  a  hasty  impression  of  Vitoria,  as  we  had  bolted  our  lunch. 

He  read  aloud  as  we  walked,  bits  out  of  a  guide-book  about 
Wellington,  and  King  Joseph,  and  the  battle  of  Vitoria  that  had 
decided  the  fate  of  the  Peninsular  War;  but  as  it  happened,  I 
was  more  interested  in  a  strange  effect  of  light  and  darkness  in 
the  sky  which  for  a  moment  made  an  unforgetable  picture. 

Another  wild,  April  storm  was  boiling  up,  and  where  we 


A  STERN  CHASE  61 

stood  in  the  square,  below  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps,  the  high 
cathedral  above  seemed  built  against  a  cloud- wall  of  ebony.  A 
long  sabre  of  sunlight  struck  upon  the  tower  and  threw  a  ray 
of  reflected  gold  on  the  white  Virgin  in  her  niche.  Over  all  the 
town  there  was  no  other  gleam  of  light,  and  so  had  the  afternoon 
darkened  that  it  was  as  if  a  mourning  veil  hung  between  our 
eyes  and  the  solemn  sky. 

Suddenly  the  deep-toned  bells  of  the  cathedral  boomed;  and 
the  doors  opening,  hundreds  of  women  clad  in  black,  with  close- 
folded  black  mantillas  poured  out,  down  the  double  stairway 
to  the  square. 

As  they  came  nearer,  and  each  figure  took  individual  signifi- 
cance with  the  breaking  of  the  cloud,  the  rich  browns  and  blue- 
shadowed  greys  of  the  buildings  —  deep  and  soft  as  velvet  — 
attained  fine  value  as  a  background  for  lace-framed  faces,  and 
the  vivid  colours  of  little  children's  cloaks. 

For  a  single  instant  I  forgot  even  Monica,  in  the  tingling 
sensation  that  the  life  of  Spain  was  throbbing  round  me,  but  a 
touch  on  my  arm  brought  me  back  to  her  with  a  bound. 

"  The  grey  car  is  getting  ready  to  start,  senor, "  murmured  a 
Spanish  voice,  as  two  Spanish  eyes  looked  up  —  hopeful 
of  pesetas  —  into  mine. 


X 

THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DONNEL 

I  THINK  that  not  once  did  Carmona  or  anyone  else  in 
the  Lecomte  spy  the  car  which,  with  the  unflagging 
obstinacy  of  a  bloodhound,  kept  on  the  fresh  trail  of  the 
pneus  that  began  again  outside  Vitoria;  for  while  we  had 
the  trail  we  were  satisfied  to  hover  always  beyond  eyeshot  of 
those  in  front. 

We  had  a  crowd  to  see  us  leave  the  town,  a  laughing  crowd 
who  seemed  to  wonder  why  people  in  their  senses  should  rush 
about  the  world  when  they  could  stop  at  home  and  take  siestas, 
And  the  peasants  by  the  roadside  were  amazingly  good-natured 
too,  though  we  disturbed  their  avocations  and  upset  the  calcula- 
tions of  their  animals. 

Stately  Spanish  senores,  whose  long  brown  or  indigo  capos 
trailed  over  their  mules'  backs,  smiled  thoughtfully  and  envied 
us  not,  rather  pitied  us,  perhaps.  Barefooted  women  in  yellow 
shawls  gave  kind  smiles,  and  flashed  looks  from  eyes 
like  stars,  as  often  blue  as  black,  but  always  singularly 
Celtic.  Scarcely  a  face  but  was  furnished  with  grave  Celtic 
features;  for  Celts  these  people  were  long  before  they  were 
Spaniards;  and  there  is  no  type  so  persistent,  except  the 
Jewish. 

One  handsome  old  man  on  a  donkey  so  lost  control  of  his 
beast  when  we  swept  into  view,  that  he  was  dislodged,  and  would 
have  fallen  on  his  face  had  he  not  enmeshed  his  knees  in  some 
intricate  tracery  of  rope.  Round  and  round  spun  the  frightened 
animal  in  the  midst  of  the  road,  like  a  cat  chasing  its  own  tail, 

62 


THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DONNEL  63 

the  rider  toppling  over,  his  well-cut  nose  all  but  scraping  the 
ground. 

Our  car  was  stopped  and  I  was  out  in  a  moment,  though  it 
must  have  been  a  long  and  giddy  moment  to  that  human  spinning- 
jenny.  A  few  tangled  seconds,  and  I  had  him  unwound  and  re- 
seated, expecting  no  gratitude.  But  to  my  surprise,  when  I  got 
the  old  fellow  right  side  up,  I  found  him  wreathed  in  smiles, 
pouring  out  thanks  and  wishes  for  my  good  speed.  Remembering 
experiences  in  other  lands  which  call  themselves  enlightened,  I 
glowed  with  pride  of  my  country  folk,  especially  when  the  victim 
of  progress  politely  refused  five  pesetas. 

As  we  came  nearer  to  Old  Castile,  the  ancient  land  of  many 
castles,  I  felt  as  a  man  must  when  at  last  he  comes  to  a  house 
which  is  his,  though  never  until  now  has  he  held  the  key  and  been 
free  to  enter. 

The  northern  provinces,  peopled  by  mysterious  Basques  alien 
to  us  in  blood  and  language,  I  could  scarcely  look  upon  as  Spain. 
But  in  Castile  I  saw  the  heart  and  citadel  of  my  native  country. 
My  father  was  Andaluz ;  my  mother  Castiliana,  and  she  used  to 
say  that  in  my  nature  were  united  the  qualities  of  the  two  pro- 
vinces —  Castilian  pride  and  stubbornness ;  the  gaiety  and 
recklessness  of  the  true  Andaluz. 

I  hoped  that  some  change  of  scenery,  some  sign  given  by 
Nature,  might  mark  the  passage  into  Castilla  la  Vieja;  therefore 
I  was  grateful  when  the  car  ran  upon  a  stately  bridge,  hung  above 
a  broad  river  that  was  a  flood  of  tarnished  gold.  Thence  we  look- 
ed across  to  the  old  buttressed  and  balconied  town  of  Miranda  del 
Ebro,  strange  and  even  startling  in  its  wild  setting  of  white 
mountains;  and  as  we  slowed  down  in  admiration,  from  a  dark 
secretive  tunnel  which  was  the  principal  street  of  the  place,  there 
seemed  to  blow  out,  like  wind-driven  petals  of  flowers,  a  flock  of 
girls  in  golden  yellow,  tulip  red,  and  iris  blue.  Then,  as  we  looked, 
followed  a  string  of  black  mules  with  crimson  harness,  pressed 
forward  by  a  dozen  young  men  in  short  blue  trousers,  capped 
like  Basques  with  the  red  birret. 


64  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

It  was  like  coming  into  a  picture  which  our  arrival  had,  in 
some  magic  way,  endowed  with  life;  and  the  effect  did  not  wear 
off  as  we  ran  into  the  shadow-tunnel,  where  the  brown  dust  lit 
up  with  flames  of  colour.  Under  the  balconies  bristling  over 
narrow  calles,  little  shops  and  booths  blazed  with  red 
and  green  peppers,  glowed  with  oranges  and  the  paler 
gold  of  lemons,  glimmered  with  giant  pearls  which  were 
Spanish  onions. 

Miranda,  I  thought,  was  worthy  of  Old  Castile;  and  when 
but  a  short  distance  further  on,  the  way  seemed  blocked  by  a 
high  ridge  of  mountains  flung  across  our  path,  I  began  to  hope 
that  my  mother's  country  —  that  home  of  highest  Spanish  pride 
and  honour  —  had  some  real  magnificence  of  scenery  to  give  us. 
We  wound  into  the  splendid  gloom  of  the  gorge  of  Pancorbo,  cut 
like  a  sword-cleft  in  the  rock;  and  I  said  that  this  scene  alone 
was  worth  a  journey  into  Spain. 

There  was  room  only  for  the  road,  and  the  foaming  Oroncillo 
tearing  its  way  through  the  mountain.  High  over  our  heads, 
where  fingers  of  sunlight  groped,  the  railway  from  Paris  to 
Madrid  looped  its  spider's  web  along  the  precipice,  winding 
through  tunnel  above  tunnel  in  miniature  rivalry  with  the 
sublimities  of  the  St.  Gothard.  Below,  deep  in  the  shadow  of  the 
gorge,  crouched  the  sad  village  of  Pancorbo  itself,  stricken, 
desolate,  articulate  only  in  its  two  ruined  castles  on  the  height, 
Santa  Engracia  and  Santa  Marta,  imploring  Heaven  with  silent 
appeal.  Still  higher,  towered  a  guardian  mountain  of  astonishing 
majesty,  seeming  to  bear  aloft  on  a  petrified  cushion  a  royal 
crown  of  iron.  It  was  a  place  to  call  up  in  memory  with  eyes  shut. 
This  was  the  majestic  entrance  into  Castile;  but  it  raised  my 
hopes  only  to  dash  them  down.  Once  past  the  serrated  needles 
and  fingers  of  Dolomite  rock  which  made  the  grandeur  of  the 
gorge,  we  came  again  to  monotony  of  outline,  and  began  to 
realize  Castile  as  it  is;  a  vast  and  lonely  steppe,  wind  swept, 
bounded  by  an  infinite  horizon. 

Treeless,  silent,  unbroken  by  hedge  or  boundary,  guarded  by 


THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DOXNEL  65 

a  ruined  watch-tower  on  each  swelling  hill,  the  illimitable  plain 
lay  sombre  and  impressive. 

No  labourers  were  to  be  seen ;  no  villages  were  in  sight,  whence 
men  could  come  to  till  the  land;  nevertheless,  everywhere  were 
signs  of  cultivation  by  invisible  hands,  harvests  to  be  reaped  by 
men  who  would  spring  from  one  knew  not  where. 

Yet  the  monotony  of  these  tremendous  spaces  was  redeemed 
by  such  changeful  splendour  of  colour  as  I  had  never  seen. 
Swelling  undulations,  worthy  to  be  named  mountains,  were 
warm  with  the  purple  of  heather,  though  no  heather  grew  upon 
them.  Sometimes  you  could  have  fancied,  from  a  sudden  out- 
burst of  radiance  on  a  distant  hilltop,  that  a  rainbow  had  lain 
down  to  rest.  And  through  all  there  was  never  absent  that  im- 
pression that  this  was  painted-glass-window  country  with  its 
rich  tones  of  crimson  and  violet,  its  palely  luminous  skies,  and 
the  solemnity  of  its  blended  hues.  Always  there  was  a  haunting 
effect  of  sadness,  even  in  the  spring  purity  of  those  white  blossom- 
arches  which  decorated  the  brown  monotony  of  our  roads. 

The  sky  still  burned  dusky  red  when  in  the  midst  of  a  wide 
plain,  the  soaring  twin-spires  of  Burgos  stood  up  for  our  eyes 
against  a  rose  veil  of  sunset  pinned  with  the  diamond  heads  of 
stars.  Away  to  our  left,  as  we  ran  towards  the  town,  was  a  dark 
building  like  Eton  College  chapel  standing  on  a  wind-swept 
hill;  and  this  I  knew  to  be  the  convent  of  Miraflores,  where 
Isabel  la  Catolica  employed  Gil  de  Siloe  to  make  for  her  father 
and  mother  the  "  most  beautiful  tomb  in  the  world. " 

I  felt  a  sense  of  possession  in  the  grand  old  town,  coming  upon 
it  thus  at  its  best;  and  I  was  glad  that  fate  had  driven  me  into 
my  own  land  en  automobile.  Even  though,  in  following  Carmona 
to  watch  over  the  girl  we  both  loved,  I  might  have  to  keep  often 
to  the  beaten  track  made  commonplace  by  tourists,  the  way 
would  never  be  really  commonplace,  as  to  sightseers  who  take 
the  ordinary  round  by  train. 

Each  new  hour  of  life  on  the  road  would  build  up  knowledge 
for  me  of  my  people  and  my  country.  I  should  not  be  studying 


66  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

it  in  any  obvious,  guide-book  way,  and  I  should  learn  more  of 
real  Spain  in  a  few  weeks  than  in  months  of  conscientious  railway 
plodding  from  one  point  to  another. 

There  was  no  question  which  hotel  Carmona  might  choose. 
He  would  go  to  the  best;  consequently  unobtrusive  persons 
whose  hopes  lay  in  keeping  to  the  background,  must  select  one 
less  good. 

We  halted  outside  the  town,  while  I  consulted  a  guide-book 
for  the  most  Spanish  fonda  in  Burgos.  When,  straining  my  eyes 
in  the  twilight,  I  read  out  a  name,  Dick  exclaimed,  "That's 
where  Angele's  friends  the  O'Donnels  are  staying. " 

"  All  the  better, "  said  I.  "  You  can  carry  out  your  commission 
without  trouble.  Perhaps  you'll  see  them  at  dinner.  They're 
sure  to  be  the  only  foreigners  there,  so  it  will  be  easy  to  pick  out 
their  Irish  faces  in  a  dining-room  full  of  Spaniards. " 

There  was  little  room  in  my  mind  for  the  O'Donnel  family, 
however.  We  were  near  Monica  now,  and  my  one  desire  was  to 
let  her  know  that  I  had  not  failed. 

We  drove  through  a  fine  old  gateway,  up  a  broad  street,  and 
past  big  barracks,  opposite  to  which  was  the  hotel  where  Car- 
mona would  stop.  But  his  Lecomte  had  already  disappeared; 
and  though  Dick  clamoured  for  dinner,  I  waited  only  long 
enough  to  secure  rooms  at  our  own  fonda  and  put  up  the  car, 
before  going  out  in  search  of  information. 

By  this  time  the  Duke  and  his  friends  would  be  dining,  and  I 
could  venture  as  far  as  the  lower  offices  of  their  hotel  without 
much  fear  of  being  seen  by  Carmona's  sharp  eyes.  In  any  case, 
I  decided  to  risk  it,  and  on  the  way  mapped  out  a  plan  of  action. 

A  couple  of  porters  were  in  the  bare  hall  of  the  ground  floor  as  I 
entered.  Walking  in  with  a  businesslike  air,  I  said  in  Spanish, 
"Have  you  some  people  here  who  came  in  a  red  automobile? 
They  ought  to  have  arrived  this  evening. " 

"No,  sefior, "  replied  one  of  the  men.  "We  have  a  party 
staying  for  the  night  who  came  in  a  grey  automobile. " 

Good  fellow,  how  well  he  played  into  my  hands!  Hiding 


THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DONNEL   67 

delight  under  a  look  of  disappointment,  I  said  that  my  friends 
were  in  a  red  automobile.  "They  may  have  been  belated,"  I 
went  on.  "They'll  probably  turn  up  before  midnight.  I  hope 
you'll  have  good  rooms  to  give  them,  at  the  front  of  the  house. 
They're  very  particular." 

"  I'm  afraid  all  our  best  rooms  are  occupied, "  said  the  man. 
"  The  senor  who  came  in  the  grey  automobile  has  taken  five 
rooms  along  the  front,  on  the  first  floor,  with  a  private  sitting- 
room.  Unfortunately,  your  friends  will  have  to  put  up  with 
something  at  the  back. " 

I  expressed  regret,  and  went  away  joyful,  having  astonished 
the  porter  by  pressing  upon  him  two  pesetas.  I  now  knew  all  I 
wanted  to  learn,  even  —  roughly  speaking  —  the  position  of 
Monica's  room;  and  I  saw  a  way  of  sending  her  a  message. 

Dick  was  ready  for  dinner  when  I  got  back,  but  I  did  not  try 
his  patience  long.  He  had  inquired  if  the  O'Donnels  were  still 
in  the  hotel,  and  had  been  told  that  they  were,  though  they  were 
leaving  in  a  day  or  two.  This  was  all  we  knew  when  we  entered 
the  dining-room,  but,  as  a  good  many  people  were  still  seated 
at  the  long  table  and  the  numerous  small  ones,  we  glanced  about 
in  search  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Mole's  friends. 

There  was  not  a  face  to  be  seen  which  you  would  not  confi- 
dently have  pronounced  to  be  Spanish,  if  you  had  met  it  at  the 
North  Pole. 

Dick  and  I  sat  down  at  a  little  table  and  began  to  talk  in 
English,  while  round  us  on  every  side  the  Spanish  language  — 
pure  Castilian,  and  slipshod,  mellifluous  Andaluz  —  gushed 
forth  like  a  golden  fountain. 

Hunger,  long  unappeased,  at  first  inclined  Dick  to  a  cynical 
view  of  life  in  general,  and  Spanish  hotel  life  in  particular,  but 
his  temper  improved  as  the  meal  went  on,  and  he  even  forgave 
me  for  deserting  a  starving  man. 

"No  sign  of  the  O'Donnels,"  said  he.  "Perhaps  they've  a 
private  dining-room. " 

"  I  doubt  there's  one  in  the  house, "  said  I. 


68  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"Well,  I'll  inquire  later,"  Dick  went  on.  "I've  looked  at 
every  face  here,  and  —  " 

"  At  one  in  particular, "  I  cut  in. 

Dick  reddened.  "I  hope  I  haven't  been  staring,"  said  he; 
"  but  she  is  the  ideal  Spanish  girl,  isn't  she  ?  If  I  were  an  artist, 
I'd  want  to  paint  her. "  As  he  spoke,  his  eyes  wandered  towards 
the  table  next  ours,  which,  since  a  dish  of  Spanish  peppers,  rice, 
and  chicken  made  a  man  of  him,  had  monopolized  all  the  at- 
tention he  could  spare  from  dinner. 

I  had  noticed  this;  hence  my  gibe.  But  Dick  was  not  far 
wrong  about  the  girl. 

Her  place  at  the  table  put  her  opposite  him;  and  her  companion 
was  a  rotund,  brown  man,  with  the  beaming  face  of  a  middle- 
aged  cherub,  and  the  habit  of  murmuring  his  contributions  to 
the  conversation  in  an  Andalucian  voice,  with  an  Andalucian 
accent  mellifluous  as  Andalucian  honey. 

The  girl  herself  was  true  Andaluza,  too,  though  of  a  very 
different  type  from  the  cherubic  person  who  (Dick  hoped)  was 
her  father.  No  such  brown  stars  of  eyes  ever  opened  to  the  world 
outside  Andalucia;  nor  did  any  save  an  Andaluza  know,  without 
being  taught,  how  to  give  such  liquid,  yet  innocent,  glances  as 
those  which  occasionally  sparkled  from  under  her  long  lashes 
for  Dick,  when  the  Cherub  was  not  looking. 

She  was  a  slim  young  thing,  with  a  heart-shaped  face  of  an 
engaging  olive  pallour;  a  pretty,  self-conscious  mouth,  which 
changed  bewitchingly  from  moment  to  moment;  and  heavy 
masses  of  dark  hair  piled  high  after  the  Spanish  fashion,  as  if  to 
suit  a  mantilla  —  hair  so  smooth  and  glossy  that,  from  a  little 
distance,  it  had  the  effect  of  being  carved  from  a  block  of  ebony. 

"She's  perfect  of  her  kind,"  said  I;  "but  I  thought  you 
preferred  American  types. " 

"Rot!"  said  Dick.  "Comparisons  are  odious.  I  say,  thank 
Heaven  for  a  pretty  girl,  whatever  she  may  be.  But  there's 
something  particularly  fascinating  about  this  one. " 

"  I  see  a  serious  objection  to  her  from  your  point  of  view, "  I 


THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DONNEL  69 

went  on.  "  She's  too  young.  You  draw  the  line  at  them  under 
twenty-two.  I'll  bet  you  she  won't  see  twenty-two  for  a  couple  of 
years  yet. " 

"  She  might  be  worth  waiting  for, "  said  Dick. 

"  No  good.  She'll  be  married  long  before  twenty-two.  All  self- 
respecting  Spanish  girls  are.  You'd  better  not  think  of  her  any 
more.  Forget  her,  and  look  up  Miss  O'Donnel.  " 

"  Angele  de  la  Mole  says  Miss  O'Donnel's  pretty, "  said  Dick. 
As  he  spoke,  he  beckoned  a  waiter;  and  I  noticed  that  the  girl 
with  the  eyes  no  longer  made  any  pretence  of  hiding  her  in- 
terest in  Dick.  She  even  whispered  to  her  companion,  who,  after 
listening  to  what  she  had  to  say,  turned  to  look  at  us  with  benign 
curiosity. 

"  Ask  whether  he  knows  Colonel  O'Donnel  and  Miss  O'Don- 
nel by  sight, "  Dick  commanded  when  the  waiter  appeared,  to 
breathe  benevolence  and  garlic  upon  us  in  equal  quantities. 
He  was  shy  of  airing  his  own  Spanish  before  a  roomful  of  Spanish 
people. 

I  asked;  the  waiter  looked  surprised,  and  to  Dick's  confusion 
and  my  astonishment,  indicated  the  occupants  of  the  next  table. 

"  The  colonel  and  the  senorita, "  said  he.  It  was  so  startlingly 
like  an  introduction  that  the  cherubic  brown  man  sprang  up  and 
bowed;  and  the  girl,  bending  over  the  mazapan  in  her  plate, 
let  us  see  the  very  top  coil  on  her  crown  of  black  hair. 

Dick,  overwhelmed,  and  recalling  every  word  we  had  said,  as  a 
drowning  man  recalls  each  wicked  deed  of  his  life  from  childhood 
up,  got  to  his  feet,  and  began  stammering  explanations. 

"  Well,  that  shows  what  an  idiot  a  man  can  make  of  himself, " 
said  he.  "  Miss  —  Mademoiselle  de  la  Mole  gave  me  a  letter  of 
introduction,  and  a  parcel  with  some  little  present,  and  I  was 
looking  around  for  you.  My  name's  Richard  Waring;  I  don't 
know  whether  mademoiselle's  written  about  me.  Anyhow  — 

"Senor, "  announced  Colonel  O'Donnel,  grieved  at  Dick's 
distress;  "no  entiendo. " 

"Habla  usted  espanol?"  asked  the  girl.  "No  Inglees,  we. 


70  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

much. "  And  she  smiled  a  dimpled  smile,  straight  at  Dick,  with 
one  side  glint  for  me. 

Dick  was,  to  use  against  him  a  favourite  word  of  his  own, 
flabbergasted.  "  Then  you're  not  Colonel  and  Miss  O'Donnel  ?  " 
said  he.  "  I  though  you  couldn't  be,  but  —  " 

"Si,  si,"  the  Cherub  reassured  him,  nodding.  "O'Donnel. 
Aw  —  right.  "  He  laughed  so  contagiously  that  we  laughed  to; 
and  I  found  my  heart  warming  to  these  unexpected,  surprising 
friends  of  Angele  de  la  Mole's. 

"Me  Maria  del  Pilar  Ines  O'Donnel  y  Alvarez,"  the  girl 
introduced  herself.  Angele  de  la  Mole,  mi  —  mi  fren."  Having 
wavered  so  far,  between  Spanish  and  English,  she  flung  herself 
headlong  into  her  native  tongue.  This  was  the  signal  for  the 
Cherub  also  to  begin  fluent  explanations,  both  fluting  Andaluz 
together,  and  so  fast,  that  Dick  (painstakingly  taught  a  little 
Castilian  by  me  in  leisure  moments)  found  himself  at  sea, 
and  drowning. 

I  had  to  translate  for  him  such  facts  in  the  O'Donnel  family 
history  as  I  could  unravel  from  the  tangled  web.  The  mystery 
of  Angele  de  la  Mole's  Spanish-speaking  Irish  friends  (which 
she  must  have  refrained  from  explaining  in  order  to  play  a  joke 
upon  Dick)  was  solved  in  a  sentence.  An  O'Donnel  grandfather 
had  fought  in  Spain  under  Wellington  in  the  Peninsular  War, 
and  stayed  in  Spain  because  he  loved  a  Spanish  girl  who  had 
many  acres.  The  Cherub's  father  was  born  in  Spain,  and  spoke 
little  English.  The  Cherub  himself  spoke  none,  or  but  a  word 
or  two.  He  was  a  colonel  in  the  Spanish  army,  now  retired. 
That  was  all ;  except  that  his  son  and  daughter  had  once  studied 
an  English  grammar,  until  they  came  to  the  verbs;  then  they 
had  stopped,  because  life  was  short  and  full  of  other  things. 
*'  But, "  said  Miss  O'Donnel  proudly,  "  me  know,  two,  three, 
word.  Lo-vely.  Varry  nice.  Aw  raight.  Yes. " 

When  she  thus  displayed  the  store  of  her  accomplishments, 
punctuated  with  dimples,  any  man  not  head  over  ears  in  love 
with  another  girl,  would  have  given  his  eyes  to  kiss  her.  I  was 


THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  MISS  O'DONNEL   71 

sorry  for  Dick.  As  for  me  —  I  found  myself  longing  to  tell  Dona 
Maria  del  Pilar  Ines  O'Donnel  y  Alvarez  all  about  Lady  Monica 
Vale,  with  the  conviction  that  her  help  would  be  of  inestimable 
value. 

Such  is  the  power  of  a  girl's  eyes  upon  weak  man,  even  when 
he  adores  a  very  different  pair  of  eyes ;  and  already  it  was  strange 
to  remember  my  stiff  disclaimer  of  a  wish  to  know  the  O'Donnels. 
I  had  called  them  "  extraneous. "  What  a  dull  ass ! 


XI 
MARIA  DEL  FILAR  TO  THE  RESCUE 

A  last,  when  the   general   confusion  had   subsided,  I 
was  able  to  impress  upon  the  delightful  pair  that, 
if  they  would   but   speak   very  slowly,  and   kindly 
trouble  themselves  to  give  a  word  of  three  syllables, 
say,  two  of  them  (a  punctilious  habit  disapproved  in  Anda- 
lucia)  Senor  Waring  would  be  able  to  join  the  conversation. 
With    true    Spanish    goodheartedness    they    did    their    best, 
though  Heaven  knows  what  it  must  have  cost  them.  Dick  also 
did  his   best,  with   a   conscientious   American    pronunciation; 
but  where  tongues  halted,  eyes  spoke  a  universal  language,  and 
we  all  got  on  so  well  that  in  ten  minutes  we  might  have  known 
each  other  for  ten  years. 

By  the  end  of  those  minutes  we  were  asked  to  the  O'Donnel's 
sitting-room,  which  had  been  furbished  up  out  of  a  bedroom; 
and  there  Dick  brought  the  famous  letter  of  introduction  and 
the  white  paper  parcel  tied  with  pink  ribbon. 

My  name  had  not  been  mentioned  by  Angele.  I  was  merely  a 
"  friend  of  Mr.  Waring's  ";  and,  it  seemed,  I  had  been  designated 
vaguely  thus  in  a  previous  letter  in  which  our  arrival  had  been 
prophesied.  This  had  been  Angele's  way  of  leaving  it  open  for 
me  to  introduce  myself  as  I  pleased ;  but  now  there  was  no  secret 
with  which  I  would  not  have  felt  safe  in  trusting  our  old  friends 
the  O'Donnels,  so  I  gave  them  my  real  name. 

The  Cherub's  face  lit  up.  "  I  knew  your  father  well,"  said  he. 
"  We  leamed  soldiering  together  as  boys,  though  he  was  four  or 
five  years  my  senior,  and  the  hero  of  my  youth.  Our  ideas  " — 

72 


MARIA  DEL  PILAR  TO  THE  RESCUE  73 

he  coughed  in  an  instant's  embarrassment  —  "  were  different. 
This  separated  us.  But  I  never  forgot  him.  He  was  a  great  man; 
and  it's  an  event  to  meet  his  son.  When  I  saw  you  downstairs  in 
the  dining-room,  it  was  like  going  back  thirty  years.  Such  a 
young  man  as  you  are  now,  was  your  father  when  I  had  my  last 
sight  of  him.  You  are  his  living  portrait." 

We  shook  hands;  and  I  believe,  with  the  slightest  encourage- 
ment, the  dear  old  fellow  would  have  planted  a  kiss  on  each  of 
my  cheeks.  That  he  did  not,  was  a  tribute  to  my  English  educa- 
tion. 

The  next  thing  was,  that  at  Dick's  request  I  was  telling  them 
everything;  and  as  Pilar  listened  to  the  story  which  prefaced  my 
errand  in  Spain,  her  eyes,  which  had  been  stars,  became  suns. 
When  I  spoke  Carmona's  name,  she  and  her  father  uttered  an 
exclamation. 

"  El  Duque  de  Cannona ! "  echoed  the  Cherub. 

"  He ! "  cried  Pilar.  And  they  looked  at  each  other. 

For  a  single  second,  I  asked  myself  if  my  frankness  had  been 
a  mistake. 

"  You  know  the  Duke  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Santa  Maria,  but  do  we  know  him ! "  breathed  the  girl.  "  I 
wish  we  could  tell  you  no." 

"You  don't  like  him?" 

"  Do  we  like  the  Duke,  Papa  ?  " 

The  good  Cherub  shook  his  head  portentously.  "  The  Duke  of 
Carmona  is  a  bad  man,"  he  said.  "He  has  not  done  us  any 
harm  —  " 

"  Oh  —  oh ! "  Pilar  cut  him  short.  "  He  has  not  driven  into  a 
convent  one  of  my  best-loved  friends  ?  " 

"My  daughter  refers  to  a  sad  story,"  explained  her  father. 
*'  In  Madrid  it  made  a  stir  at  the  time.  He  jilted  a  school  friend  of 
Pilarcita's.  That  is  almost  an  unheard-of  thing  in  Spain;  but  he 
did  it.  The  young  girl's  family  got  into  trouble  at  Court  —  an 
insignificant  affair;  but  the  Duke  is  ambitious  of  favour.  He  had 
something  to  retrieve,  after  the  scandal  during  the  Spanish- 


74  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

American  War,  when  he  was  quite  a  young  man  —  not  more 
than  twenty-four  —  and  — " 

"  You  mean,  the  story  that  he  speculated  in  horses  —  bought 
wretched  crocks  cheap  and  sold  them  to  the  army  for  the  cavalry, 
with  the  connivance  of  the  vets  he's  supposed  to  have  bribed  ?  " 

"Yes.  He  managed  to  clear  himself;  but  the  royalties  looked 
at  him  coldly,  and  he  is  not  a  man  to  bear  that.  The  father  of 
the  girl  —  Pilarcita's  friend  —  was  at  one  time  much  liked  by 
the  young  King,  and  people  thought  it  was  Carmona's  motive  for 
engaging  himself.  With  the  first  breath  of  the  storm  the  Duke  was 
off;  and  the  discarded  fiancee  entered  as  a  novice  the  convent 
where  she  and  my  daughter  went  to  school.  That  is  why  Pilarcita 
so  much  dislikes  him  —  " 

"But  it's  not  all!"  cried  the  girl.  "What  about  the  grey  bull, 
poor  Corcito." 

Colonel  O'Donnel  laughed  his  gentle,  chuckling  laugh. 

"  Our  home  is  close  to  a  ganaderia  —  a  bull-farm  of  the 
Duke's  near  Seville,"  he  explained  indulgently.  "The  places 
adjoin;  and  as  I've  allowed  this  Pilarcita  to  grow  up  a  wild  girl, 
very  different  from  the  young  ladies  of  Seville  she  should  emulate, 
she  has  made  friends  of  the  Duke's  cattle.  There  were,  some 
years  ago,  a  grey  bull  that  was  as  tame  with  her  as  a  pet  dogj 
but  it  took  a  dislike  to  the  Duke,  who  came  to  have  a  look  at  his 
bulls  once,  and  attacked  him.  The  saying  is  that  the  Moorish 
blood  in  the  Carmonas  gives  them  a  cruel  temper.  At  all  events. 
Carmona  could  not  forgive  the  bull  its  disrespect,  and  promptly 
had  it  sent  off  to  the  slaughter-house,  though  it  was  a  toro  bravo." 

"  That's  like  him,"  said  I. 

"  There's  nothing  he  wouldn't  do  against  an  enemy,  or  to  gain 
a  thing  he  wanted,"  said  Pilar,  turning  to  me.  "Take  care,  now 
he  wants  something  you  want." 

"It's  been  so  between  our  families  for  generations,"  I  said. 
"  My  grandfather  ran  away  with  the  girl  his  grandfather  wanted 
to  marry,  and  my  father  and  his  in  their  youth  had  a  furious  law- 
suit." 


MARIA  DEL  PILAR  TO  THE  RESCUE  75 

"  Which  won  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"My  father." 

"  Be  sure  he  will  remember,"  said  she.  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  we 
could  help  you !  It  would  be  such  a  revenge  upon  him  for  poor 
Eulalia  and  for  Corcito.  Papa,  can't  we  do  something  ?  " 

"  If  we  could,"  echoed  the  Cherub,  "for  his  father's  son  1 " 

Suddenly  the  girl  jumped  up  and  clapped  her  hands.  "  Oh,  I 
have  thought  of  the  thing!"  she  cried  "  It  would  be  like  a  play." 
But  her  face  fell.  "I  don't  know  how  to  propose  it,"  said  she. 
"Perhaps  you  and  Mr.  Waring  would  disapprove.  And  how 
could  we  invite  ourselves  —  " 

She  stopped;  but  I  made  her  go  on.  "Please  tell  us,"  I  said. 
"  It's  sure  to  be  a  splendid  plan.  And  anything  associated  with 
you  would  bring  luck." 

"This  would  be  very  much  associated  with  us,"  said  she, 
laughing;  "for  the  idea  is  that,  instead  of  going  home  by  rail  as 
we  meant  to  do,  day  after  to-morrow,  we  go  on  in  your  car  with 
you,  pretending  to  be  Mr.  Waring's  guests,  and  you  supposed 
to  be  my  brother  Cristobal." 

"  Pilarcita,  some  wild  bird  has  built  its  nest  in  your  brain," 
said  the  Cherub. 

"  Wait  till  I  finish ! "  the  girl  commanded.  And  it  was  easy  to 
see  that,  though  her  father  shook  his  head,  she  was  a  spoilt  darl- 
ing who  could  do  nothing  wrong. 

"  I  only  wish  Cristobal  were  here,"  she  went  on,  breathlessly ; 
"  but  there  was  a  regimental  dinner,  and  he  had  to  leave  us.  He'll 
come  in  later,  and  you  shall  meet  him,  and  hear  what  he  says  to 
the  plan.  Oh,  there's  not  much  fear  that  he'll  object,  when  you 
are  Angele's  friend,  and  she's  doing  all  she  can  for  you.  He'd 
walk  through  fire  to  please  Angele.  And  this  would  be  but  to 
give  up  his  leave  —  or  at  least  the  going  home  with  us  —  and 
lending  you  his  uniform,  which  I'm  sure  would  fit  you  sweetly." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  way  she  disposed  of  her 
brother  and  his  plans,  to  say  nothing  of  those  she  was  making 
for  me;  but  she  rushed  on,  anxious  to  justify  her  counsel. 


76  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"You  don't  understand  yet,"  she  insisted.  "It's  a  wonderful 
idea.  You  see,  papa  and  I  have  met  the  Duke  in  Madrid,  at 
friends'  houses.  I've  scarcely  spoken  to  him,  for  Spanish  girls 
don't  have  much  chance  to  talk  with  men,  but  he'll  remember 
me,  and  papa  too.  The  lucky  thing  is,  he's  never  seen  my  brother 
since  Cristobal  was  a  little  boy,  and  then  no  more  than  once  or 
twice,  when  he  came  out  to  his  ganaderfa.  He  must  know,  if  he 
stops  to  think,  that  papa  has  a  son ;  that's  all.  And  you  say  the 
Duke  only  saw  you  at  the  fancy  dress  ball,  in  a  Romeo  costume, 
with  a  fair  wig.  When  Lady  Monica  Vale  gave  that  start  forward, 
and  looked  at  you  in  the  automobile,  although  you'd  made  your 
car  different  he  fancied  you  might  be  in  it,  and  telegraphed  to 
have  the  man  he  suspected  kept  back  at  Irun.  Well,  it  was  clever 
of  you  to  change  with  your  chauffeur;  but  all  the  same,  if  you  go 
on,  dressed  as  a  chauffeur,  you  can  never  have  a  chance  to  get 
near  Lady  Monica.  And  if  you  appear  as  yourself,  even  though 
the  Duke  isn't  sure  it's  you,  he'll  keep  Lady  Monica  out  of  your 
way.  And  her  mother  will  help  him,  as  she  wants  them  to  marry. 
But  think  how  different  for  my  brother!  We  all  happen  to  meet 
—  suppose  it's  in  the  cathedral  —  and  papa  says : '  How  do  you 
do?  You  don't  remember  Cristobal?'  He'd  simply  have  to 
accept  you  as  Cristobal,  although  he  might  find  Cristobal 
rather  like  that  troublesome  Marques  de  Casa  Triana." 

"  Casa  Triana  is  also  Cristobal,"  I  laughed.  "  Ramon  Cris- 
tobal." 

"  All  the  better.  We  shouldn't  any  of  us  have  to  fib.  I  always 
said  Cristobal  is  the  luckiest  saint  to  have  for  a  patron.  See  how 
he's  offering  his  help  to  you.  And  oh,  did  you  know  he's  the  patron 
saint  of  automobilists  ?  To-morrow  I'll  give  you  a  Cristobal 
medal  to  nail  on  your  car.  They're  made  on  purpose ;  such  ducks ! 
But  now  do  you  begin  to  understand  what  I'm  driving  at,  and 
that  it  wasn't  just  impudence  to  suggest  our  going  in  your  auto- 
mobile, papa  and  I  ?  What  with  us,  and  San  Cristobal,  you  ought 
to  get  your  foot  on  the  Duke's  head." 

**  But  what  about  your  brother  Cristobal  ?  " 


MARIA  DEL  PILAR  TO  THE  RESCUE  77 

"Oh,  he!  We  must  all  thank  San  Cristobal  that  he  has  this 
leave,  otherwise  the  Duke  could  easily  find  out;  but  instead  of 
going  home  he  can  go  —  why,  he  can  go  to  Biarritz,  where  he 
will  see  Angele,  so  it  will  be  nice  all  round.  And  imagine  yourself 
in  his  uniform,  walking  with  us  in  the  cathedral,  where  the  Duke 
is  sure  to  take  Lady  Monica  and  her  mother, —  otherwise,  why 
stop  at  Burgos?  One  comes  for  that,  and  nothing  else,  unless 
one  has  a  little  brother  in  the  garrison.  Now  what  do  you  say, 
Don  Ramon  ?  " 

"  I  say  you're  an  angel,"  I  replied  with  promptness.  "  But  I 
also  say  that  Colonel  O'Donnel  won't  allow  such  an  arrange- 
ment." 

"Oh,  won't  he?"  exclaimed  Pilar.  "Do  you  think  I'm  an 
ordinary  girl  of  southern  Spain,  who  says  'yes,  yes,'  and  'no, 
no,'  as  her  parents  wish,  and  looks  down  on  the  ground  while  life 
passes  ?  Only  to  think  of  being  like  that  is  enough  to  make  a 
woman  grow  a  moustache  and  have  an  embonpoint  out  of  sheer 
ennui.  It's  my  Irish  heart  which  keeps  my  father  and  brother 
alive;  and  when  I  want  to  do  a  thing  they  hurry  to  let  me  do  it 
lest  I  have  a  fit  —  of  which  I  would  be  capable." 

"As  you  are  a  Cristobal,"  said  the  Cherub  mildly,  "it  might 
be  managed,  if  you  liked,  without  our  having  to  go  more  than  an 
extra  time  to  confession.  I  could  wear  the  sin  upon  my  conscience, 
if  you  could;  and  if  you  could  wear  also  the  uniform  of  my  son." 

"I'd  like  to  see  Carmona's  face  when  you're  introduced," 
remarked  Dick,  in  his  slow  Spanish. 

"You  will  see  it,"  exclaimed  Pilar;  and  with  this,  the  door 
opened  and  the  other  Cristobal  came  in. 


xn 

UNDER  A  BALCONY 

1  LIKED  the  brother  because  he  had  his  sister's  eyes,  and  — 
being  the  ordinary,  selfish,  human  man  —  I  liked  him 
still  better  for  his  enthusiastic  desire  to  help  the  last 
of  the  Casa  Trianas.  Whether  his  enthusiasm  was  for 
the  sake  of  Casa  Triana,  or  Angele  de  la  Mole,  was  a  detail.  It 
had  the  same  effect  upon  my  affairs;  and  having  taken  very  little 
time  for  reflection.  I  let  myself  be  hurried  away  on  the  tide. 

Pilar  —  as  unlike  a  Spanish  girl  in  mind  as  she  was  like  one 
in  face  —  stage-managed  us  all.  We  merely  accepted  our  parts 
in  the  play,  I  thankfully,  the  others  calmly. 

Brother  Cristobal  was,  perhaps,  not  sorry  to  make  an  unex- 
pected flight  to  Biarritz,  with  news  of  Dick  and  me  as  an  excuse, 
instead  of  spending  his  leave  tamely  at  home.  There  was,  at  all 
events,  a  suspicious  alacrity  about  the  way  in  which  he  agreed  to 
disappear  as  early  as  possible  the  following  day.  As  he  was  wear- 
ing the  uniform  which  was  to  be  made  over  to  me,  it  was  decided 
that  he  should  bring  it  to  my  room  next  morning  before  hearing 
mass  at  the  cathedral.  It  was  Pilar's  idea  that  I  should  go  there 
with  him,  getting  off  before  the  fonda  was  fully  astir,  and  seek 
sanctuary  in  dusky  corners  of  remote  chapels  until  my  friends 
arrived. 

"We'll  find  out  when  the  Duke  and  his  mother  take  Lady 
Monica  to  look  at  the  cathedral,"  said  the  girl,  delighting  in  her 
own  ingenuity;  "and  then  we'll  start  too.  Though  we  can't  bear 
the  Duke,  we've  always  been  civil  to  him  and  his  mother  when- 
ever we've  met  in  Madrid,  praise  the  saints,  so  they  can't  be  rude 

78 


UNDER  A  BALCONY  79 

to  us  now.  If  we  go  up  and  speak,  they'll  have  to  introduce  us  to 
Lady  Vale-Avon  and  Lady  Monica.  I  shall  take  a  great  fancy  at 
first  sight  to  Lady  Monica,  of  course;  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
I  can  make  her  like  me.  The  rest  will  be  easy  for  the  whole  trip. 
Oh,  we  shall  have  fun ! " 

I  began  to  think  we  should,  and  that,  thanks  to  a  girl's  counter- 
plotting, I  should  have  pretty  plain  sailing  in  spite  of  Carmona. 
But  because  I  began  to  see  land  ahead,  I  was  the  more  anxious 
to  give  Monica  peace  of  mind;  and  when  we  said  good-night  to 
the  O'Donnels  about  half-past  ten,  I  set  out  to  carry  through  the 
plan  I  had  thought  of  before  dinner. 

On  the  wall  of  the  landlord's  office,  off  the  main  hall,  I  had 
seen  a  guitar  hanging.  It  belonged  to  his  son,  a  romantic-looking 
young  fellow,  whose  sympathetic  soul  delighted  in  lending  the 
national  aid  to  courtship,  without  asking  a  single  question. 

I  would  be  no  true  Spaniard  if  I  could  not  play  the  guitar;  and 
in  fact  my  mother  had  given  me  some  dexterity  with  the  instru- 
ment, before  I  was  ten  years  old.  I  had  neglected  it  for  years; 
nevertheless,  my  fingers  had  but  to  touch  the  strings  to  be  on 
friendly  terms  with  them. 

Madrid  and  Seville  would  probably  be  waking  up  to  fullest 
life  at  this  hour;  but  in  provincial  towns  one  goes  to  bed  early 
because  there  is  nothing  more  amusing  to  do. 

At  eleven  the  windows  of  the  principal  hotel  were  dark;  and 
without  being  stared  at  curiously  by  any  passer-by,  I  stationed 
myself  under  the  first  floor  balconies,  with  my  guitar. 

I  did  not  know  which  room  was  Monica's,  but  I  did  know  that 
it  could  not  be  far  away;  and  I  counted  on  the  chance  that  anx- 
ious thoughts  might  keep  her  from  sleeping  soundly. 

Softly,  and  then  more  boldly,  I  began  to  thrum  the  air  of  the 
Hungarian  waltz  which  they  had  played  that  night  at  the  Duch- 
ess of  Carmona's,  while  I  told  Monica  I  loved  her.  Often  its  pas- 
sionate refrain  had  echoed  in  my  ears  since,  and  brought  the 
scene  before  me.  I  hoped  that  Monica  also  might  remember. 

Five  minutes  passed,  and  still  I  played  on,  yet  nothing  happen- 


80  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

ed.  Then,  when  I  had  begun  to  fear  failure,  I  heard  a  faint  sound 
overhead.  A  window  was  opening.  There  was  no  gleam  of  light, 
no  whisper;  but  something  soft  and  small  fell  close  to  my  feet. 
I  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  It  was  a  rose,  weighted  by  a  grey 
suede  glove,  tied  round  the  stem;  and  the  glove  was  scented  with 
orris,  the  same  delicate  fragrance  which  had  come  to  me  when  I 
kissed  Monica's  hand,  and  her  letters. 

She  had  had  my  message,  and  answered  it. 


XIII 

WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL 

BEFORE  six  next  morning,  Cristobal  O'Donnel  was 
tapping  at  my  door,  with  the  promised  uniform  and 
accoutrements  concealed  under  the  military  overcoat 
which  was  also  to  be  put  at  my  disposal. 

Hearing  our  voices,  Waring  appeared,  yawning,  at  the  door  of 
the  adjoining  room,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  stifled  laughter 
among  the  three  of  us,  as  I  got  into  my  borrowed  red  and  blue. 
The  things  fitted  well  enough,  as  I  have  only  an  inch  or  two  the 
advantage  of  the  other  Cristobal,  and  even  the  cap  accommodat- 
ed itself  to  my  head  almost  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  me.  When 
I  was  ready  for  the  part  assigned  by  Pilar,  Dick  said  that  I  had 
never  looked  so  well  before,  and  probably  never  would  again. 

My  suit-cases  were  packed,  and  the  programme  which  Dick 
had  to  carry  out  when  O'Donnel  and  I  had  gone,  was  to  settle 
our  account  at  the  hotel,  get  the  luggage  bestowed  on  the  roof  of 
the  car,  and  finally  to  drive  round  to  the  cathedral  door,  in  order 
to  start  from  there  in  the  end,  without  going  back  to  the  fonda 
or  garage.  We  were  grumbling  at  the  absence  of  poor  Ropes, 
when  there  was  a  discreet  knock  at  the  door,  and  Ropes  himself 
appeared  as  we  opened  it,  like  a  jack-in-the-box. 

His  happy  smile  was  changed  to  a  stare  of  surprise  at  sight  of 
me  in  the  uniform  of  a  Spanish  officer,  but  true  to  his  training  he 
ironed  all  expression  out  of  his  features  in  an  instant,  and 
allowed  himself  to  look  only  decorously  pleased  when  Dick  and 
I  welcomed  him  with  enthusiasm. 

"Well  done!"  said  I.  "Did  you  break  out  of  gaol?"  But  to 

81 


82  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

tell  the  truth  I  was  faintly  uneasy;  because,  if  he  had,  it  would 
mean  trouble  for  us  all  presently,  when  we  had  been  traced  by 
the  police.  But  I  need  not  have  doubted  the  faithful  Ropes. 

"No,  sir,  I  didn't  break  out,"  he  replied.  "I  wouldn't  have 
done  that  in  any  case,  though  I  didn't  like  to  think  of  my  work  on 
your  hands.  But  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,  if  I  won't  be  disturbing 
you." 

O'Donnel,  who  could  not  understand  a  word,  thought  that  he 
must  be  off,  as  he  wanted  to  hear  mass  and  catch  the  train  for 
Biarritz.  I  let  him  go  without  me,  therefore ;  and  after  our  good- 
byes, Dick  and  I  clamoured  for  Ropes'  story. 

"  It  was  a  rum  go  altogether,  sir,"  said  he.  "  They  took  me  off 
to  the  head  police  office  at  Irun,  and  the  chief  asked  me  all  man- 
ner of  questions ;  but  I  kept  on  repeating  '  no  comprendo,'  and 
showing  the  cards  of  Mr.  George  Smith.  I  couldn't  understand 
all  their  jabber,  but  they  mentioned  your  name,  and  from  the 
way  they  looked  when  I  put  on  my  stupid  airs,  I  thought  they 
began  to  have  their  doubts.  The  chief  policeman  motioned  me 
to  stop  where  I  was,  and  ordered  two  of  the  men  to  go  some- 
where. From  my  place,  I  could  see  the  bridge,  and  the  two  police- 
men who  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something. 

"  By  and  by  came  the  thrum  of  an  automobile,  and  I  could  tell 
it  was  a  Lecomte.  A  minute  later  the  chaps  outside  were  talk- 
ing to  the  Duke  of  Carmona,  who  stopped  his  car  where  they 
were.  They  talked  a  bit ;  then  he  gave  the  wheel  to  his  chauffeur 
and  came  into  the  police  office.  The  chief  treated  him  very 
deferential;  they  laid  their  heads  together  in  a  corner,  but  I 
could  see  them  reading  a  telegram,  and  once  and  again  they  had 
a  squint  at  me. 

"  I  knew  too  much  to  let  on  I  suspected  the  Duke  of  a  hand 
in  the  business,  but  having  heard  him  answer  Mr.  Waring 
about  the  tyre  in  English  as  good  as  my  own,  I  jumped  up  and 
asked  if  he'd  interpret  for  me  with  the  police.  I  explained  what 
had  happened,  showed  my  card,  and  said  there'd  been  a  silly 
mistake  which  was  causing  me  no  end  of  annoyance.  Then  I 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL        83 

said  I'd  write  to  The  Times,  about  the  sort  of  thing  that  happened 
to  Englishmen  travelling  in  Spain,  and  talked  of  the  Embassy  at 
Madrid. 

"  All  the  time  I  was  speaking  the  Duke  pulled  his  moustache 
and  stared  so  hard,  if  I'd  had  on  a  false  moustache  or  wig,  or  any 
of  that  kind  of  business,  he'd  have  been  sure  to  find  it  out.  He 
looked  cross  and  puzzled  too;  but  finally  he  said,  as  I  was  Eng- 
lish, and  he  believed  they  were  wanting  a  Spaniard,  there  must 
be  a  mistake,  and  he  would  do  the  best  he  could  to  help  me.  I 
suppose  he  must  have  told  them  they  were  on  the  wrong  job 
after  all,  for  after  he'd  gone,  and  they'd  buzzed  awhile  and  made 
out  a  lot  of  papers,  they  said  that  as  a  very  important  person 
certified  to  my  being  Mr.  George  Smith,  I  could  go. 

"  By  this  time  it  was  afternoon,  and  I  wanted  to  get  on  as  soon 
as  possible,  so  I  took  the  next  train  for  San  Sebastian,  and  hunted 
up  a  place  to  hire  a  motor  bike.  I  didn't  know  where  you'd  have 
gone  after  that,  so  I  couldn't  book  by  train;  but  I  counted  on 
picking  up  your  trail  if  I  kept  the  road." 

"  How  could  you  expect  to  do  that,  since  there  must  be  a  lot  of 
automobiles  going  back  and  forth  between  Biarritz  and  San 
Sebastian,  even  at  this  time  of  year  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Why,  from  the  non-skids,  sir.  I'd  know  ours  anywhere. 
There's  three  of  the  steel  studs  worn  close  down  on  the  off  driving 
wheel,  which  makes  a  queer  little  mark  in  dust  or  mud.  I  could 
even  see,  once  I  got  on  to  the  tracks,  that  you'd  followed  the 
Duke's  car,  for  your  tracks  came  sometimes  on  his,  almost  ob- 
literating his  trail  for  a  bit.  I  can  tell  you,  sir,  it  cheered  me  up 
to  be  coming  on  your  tracks  like  that.  Made  me  feel  at  home  in 
a  strange  country.  The  bike  took  me  along  pretty  well,  too;  but 
do  the  best  I  could,  night  came  on  without  my  overtaking  you. 
For  fear  of  losing  the  tracks,  I  put  up  at  a  posada,  got  under  way 
the  minute  there  was  a  streak  of  dawn,  and  found  you  here  by 
inquiring." 

"You're  a  regular  Sherlock  Holmes  as  well  as  a  thorough 
brick,  Ropes,"  said  I.  "Now,  have  something  to  eat;  get  the 


84 

motor  bicycle  back  to  San  Sebastian  by  rail,  and  be  ready  for 
another  start." 

With  this  I  was  off,  leaving  him  to  Dick.  I  turned  the  collar 
of  Cristobal's  big  coat  up  to  my  eyes,  pulled  the  cap  down  far 
enough  almost  to  meet  it,  and  went  out,  praying  to  meet  none  of 
Cristobal's  fellow-officers. 

The  wild  wind  for  which  Burgos  is  famed  wailed  through  the 
long,  arcaded  streets  with  their  tall  yellow  buildings,  and  tried  to 
hurl  me  back  from  the  great  honey-coloured  gateway  with  its 
towers  and  pinnacles,  where  I  would  have  paused  to  pick  out  the 
statue  of  the  Cid  from  other  battered  statues  in  weather-beaten 
niches. 

The  few  men  who  passed,  wrapped  in  black  capas  turned  over 
with  blue  or  crimson,  had  the  fine-cut,  melancholy  features  of 
those  who  live  in  northern  cold,  and  their  glances  were  as  chill  as 
the  weather.  But  that  was  better  than  if  they  had  taken  too  much 
interest  in  a  strange  face  in  a  familiar  uniform ;  and  it  would  have 
needed  more  than  a  freezing  stare  to  blight  the  spring  in  my  heart, 
for  I  was  going  to  Monica. 

I  was  ready  to  love  Burgos  for  the  sake  of  my  childhood's  hero, 
the  brave  old  Cid,  with  whom  every  stone  seemed  to  be  associat- 
ed. This  was  the  city  of  the  Cid  as  well  as  the  country  of  the 
Cid ;  and  if  I  had  come  into  my  fatherland  as  a  sightseer,  and 
not  as  a  lover,  I  should  have  gone  on  a  pilgrimage  to  his  tomb 
at  the  convent  of  San  Pedro  de  Cardena,  only  a  few  kilometres 
out  of  Burgos  —  that  City  of  Battles. 

As  it  was,  I  should  have  to  be  content  with  reading  about  it  in 
some  book,  for  Cannona  would  not  desert  his  car  to  go;  and 
where  Cannona  went,  there  must  I  go  also. 

At  least  I  had  a  cup  of  coffee  at  "  The  Cafe  of  the  Cid  "  on  my 
way  to  the  cathedral;  and  the  first  landmark  I  sought  in  that  tri- 
umph of  Gothic  grandeur  was  the  coffer  of  the  Cid.  I  might  have 
hours  to  wait,  I  knew,  before  the  others  would  come,  though  in 
order  to  reach  Valladolid  at  a  decent  hour,  they  must  not  delay 
too  long.  But  sooner  or  later  they  would  certainly  arrive,  for 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL        85 

Carmona  could  not,  for  shame's  sake,  rush  Monica  out  of  Burgos 
without  showing  her  the  glory  of  Burgos.  And  meanwhile,  for 
none  save  a  paltry  soul  could  Time  have  halted,  heavy-footed, 
as  a  companion  in  that  realm  of  shadowed  splendour. 

It  was  the  first  of  the  famous  cathedrals  of  Spain  on  which  I, 
an  outcast  son,  had  set  my  eyes;  and  a  glimpse  of  the  twin-spires 
from  afar  had  given  me  some  inkling  of  its  beauty.  Wrapped  in 
sunset  flames,  I  had  seen  the  towers  as  if  cut  in  precious  stones, 
chiselled,  according  to  legend  by  angels,  like  a  queen's  bracelet, 
adorned  like  an  old  reliquary.  I  had  said  to  myself  that  the  vast 
building  was  a  wild  festival  in  a  stone,  a  bravura  song  in  architec- 
ture. And  if  I  remembered,  as  I  looked,  other  twin  towers  which 
are  the  glory  of  the  Rhine,  I  tried  to  put  the  reminiscence 
away,  because  I  wanted  the  cathedrals  of  Spain  to  be  different 
from  those  of  any  other  country.  I  wanted  them  to  speak  to 
me  with  their  own  national  inspiration.  And  this  morning,  as  I 
flitted  with  the  other  shadows  into  the  solemn  dusk  of  the 
great  nave,  I  was  satisfied.  I  found  no  German  inspiration  here. 
Each  detail  struck  the  same  curiously  national  note,  from  the 
rare  iron-work  to  the  octagonal  lantern,  a  miracle  of  Plateresque 
design,  which  lifted  itself,  clear  and  bright,  above  the  centre  of 
the  great  church.  Perhaps  the  effect  lay  partly  in  the  gorgeous 
colour,  colour  never  tawdry,  never  vulgar,  as  I  had  seen  it  some- 
times in  Italy;  or  else  in  the  wonderful  reliefs;  statues  in  niches 
of  gold,  flowering  stones,  arabesques,  alabaster  columns,  richly- 
toned  pictures ;  but  no  matter  whence  it  came,  it  was  there,  and 
could  have  been  nowhere  except  in  Spain. 

I  wandered  from  chapel  to  chapel,  saw  the  strange  mummy- 
like  figure  of  the  Christ  of  Burgos,  supposed  to  shed  blood  every 
Friday;  admired  the  treasures  of  the  sacristy;  and,  I  am  half- 
ashamed  to  say,  had  just  dedicated  a  candle  to  propitiate  San 
Cristobal,  when  my  heart  gave  a  leap  at  sight  of  four  persons 
who  appeared  from  behind  the  grand  coro  which  fills  the  nave. 

The  old  Duchess  of  Carmona,  brown,  stout,  yet  somehow 
stately,  and  the  tall  figure  of  Lady  Vale-Avon  advanced  towards 


86  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

me,  side  by  side.  Behind  came  Monica,  fresh  and  sweet  in  her 
white-winged  grey  hat  and  travelling  dress,  and  the  Duke  of 
Carmona,  dark  as  a  Moor  in  contrast  with  her  young  fairness. 

I  dared  not  break  upon  her  unexpectedly,  after  my  experience 
of  yesterday,  so  I  turned  away,  and  entering  a  chapel 
interested  myself  in  a  tomb  which  is  the  cherished  jewel  of  the 
cathedral. 

How  long  I  could  have  kept  my  patience  under  provocation 
I  can't  tell;  but  my  strength  of  mind  had  not  been  tested  for  five 
minutes  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  my  adopted  sister  Pilarcita. 
She  and  the  excellent  Cherub  were  claiming  acquaintance  with 
the  Duke. 

They  were  close  to  the  chapel  in  which  I  stood.  Half  turning 
I  saw  the  group,  which  consisted  of  six  persons.  Dick  was  not 
among  them,  and  I  wondered  whether  he  were  absent  by  design 
or  accident. 

Now  the  Duchess  and  the  Cherub  were  talking  together.  Now 
the  O'Donnel's  were  being  introduced  to  Lady  Vale- A  von  and 
Monica.  The  two  girls  began  chatting  together.  Dear  Pilar,  what 
a  jewel  of  a  sister  she  was ! 

"  Do  you  remember  Cristobal  ?  "  I  heard  her  suddenly  ask 
Carmona,  in  a  voice  raised  to  such  clear  distinctness  that  I  guess- 
ed she  had  seen  a  uniform  behind  the  iron-work  of  the  half-open 
chapel  door.  "  You  saw  my  brother,  I  think,  when  he  was  a  little 
boy.  He's  stationed  here  now;  we've  been  visiting  him." 

I  took  this  as  my  cue,  and  turning  from  the  sleeping  figure  of 
Bishop  Alonso  de  Cartagena,  I  walked  out  of  the  chapel  to  join 
my  adopted  family. 

"  Why,  here's  Cristobal  now ! "  exclaimed  Pilar. 

Then,  in  a  flash,  she  had  me  introduced  to  all,  leaving  Monica 
till  the  last,  so  that  the  girl  might  have  time  to  get  her  breath  after 
the  first  shock  of  surprise. 

Whether  it  was  that  yesterday  had  given  her  a  lesson  in  self- 
control,  or  whether  Pilar  had  contrived  to  whisper  some  word 
concerning  her  brother,  I  could  not  tell ;  but  if  Monica  changed 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL        87 

colour  I  could  not  see  it,  perhaps  because  a  darkening  of  the  sky 
outside  had  begun  to  deepen  the  rich  dusk  of  the  cathedral. 

For  her  own  sake  I  scarcely  dared  look  at  her;  and  my  silence 
must  have  passed  with  the  others  for  the  shyness  of  a  young 
soldier  among  strangers.  But  I  did  look  at  Carmona,  feeling  his 
eyes  upon  me,  and  met  a  stare  as  searching  as  Rontgen  rays. 

His  face  is  not  one  easy  to  read ;  but  for  once  the  windows  of 
his  mind  were  wide  open.  If  he  had  recognized  me,  and  guessed 
the  trick  which  had  been  played  on  him  he  would  have  worn  a 
very  different  expression;  but  he  was  bewildered,  uneasy,  as  he 
had  been  yesterday  when  he  saw  Monica  lean  forward,  blushing, 
to  gaze  at  a  masked  man  in  a  motor-car. 

He  realized  the  likeness  between  Cristobal  O'Donnel  y 
Alvarez  and  his  own  dangerous,  though  ineligible  rival,  Casa 
Triana.  I  could  see  the  thought  dart  into  his  mind  nd  rankle; 
I  could  see  him  push  it  into  a  dark  corner  kept  for  the  rubbish  of 
imagination.  I  knew  how  he  was  telling  himself  that  there  could 
be  no  connection  or  collusion  between  the  O'Donnel  family  and 
Casa  Triana.  I  hoped  he  also  soothed  his  anxiety  by  reminding 
himself  that  in  all  probability  Casa  Triana,  in  the  blue  Gloria 
car  once  seen  by  his  chauffeur,  was  busily  forgetting  Monica 
Vale  in  some  distant  part  of  Europe.  Carmona  had  admitted 
one  mistake  yesterday:  he  would  not  be  ready  to  fall  into  an- 
other to-day. 

Lady  Vale-Avon  was  also  gazing  somewhat  sharply  at  the 
young  Spanish  officer,  a  brother  of  those  old  acquaintances  of 
the  Duke's.  But  now  she  coaxed  her  eyesight  by  lifting  a  lorgnette 
which,  as  Mary  Stuart,  she  had  not  been  able  to  carry  on  the 
night  of  our  former  meeting;  and  when  a  questioning  glance  at 
Carmona  met  with  no  alarming  answer,  the  suspicious  frown 
faded  from  her  forehead. 

After  a  few  words  we  all,  as  if  with  one  accord,  began  to  move 
on  upon  the  tour  of  inspection ;  and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  Dick. 

I  would  defy  anyone  to  hold  out  for  more  than  five  minutes 
against  the  charm  of  the  Cherub.  Without  raising  his  voice  above 


88  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

a  honeyed  murmur,  and  with  nothing  particular  to  say,  by  sheer 
force  of  cherubic,  Andaluz  charm  of  manner  he  fascinated  the 
Duchess  of  Carmona,  and  even  Lady  Vale- Avon,  to  whom  he 
was  a  new  type.  She  had  been  studying  Spanish  with  an  eye  to 
the  future,  for  she  understood  and  answered  Colonel  O'Donnel ; 
but  with  apparent  innocence  and  real  subtlety  he  contrived  to 
keep  the  Duke  busy  explaining  him,  and  murmured  so  many 
funny  things  that  even  Carmona  was  obliged  occasionally  to 
burst  out  laughing. 

Meanwhile,  Monica,  Pilar,  and  I  were  left  to  follow  behind, 
greatly  against  the  will  of  the  Duke,  as  I  guessed  by  the  sulky 
set  of  his  shoulders. 

"Quick,  quick,  into  this  chapel,"  whispered  Pilar,  "before 
they  look  round.  Then  they  won't  know  where  we've  disappeared, 
and  you'll  have  five  minutes  grace."  As  she  spoke,  she  caught 
Monica  by  the  arm,  and  whisked  her  into  the  Capilla  del  Condes- 
table.  Once  behind  the  iron  lattice,  she  darted  away  as  if  moved 
by  a  sudden  passion  to  gaze  at  the  carved  altar  piece. 

"How  wonderful!"  said  Monica.  I  caught  her  hands,  which 
she  held  out  to  me,  and  then  we  laughed  into  each  other's  eyes, 
in  sheer  happiness  and  triumph  over  fate.  "  To  think  that  you're 
here,  after  all." 

"  Wherever  you  are,  I'm  going  to  be,  while  you  want  me,"  said 
I,  "  and  until  we  know  whether  I  shall  have  to  take  you  away." 

"  I  might  have  known  you  wouldn't  fail  me,"  she  said.  "  But  I 
was  so  unhappy  yesterday.  When  I  saw  that  handkerchief  I 
knew  at  once  who  you  were,  though  I  should  never  have  guessed, 
with  those  awful  goggles,  and  I  couldn't  help  giving  a  jump,  and 
getting  red.  But  I  shall  never  be  so  stupid  again.  I'll  be  prepared 
for  anything.  Just  a  whisper  from  Senorita  O'Donnel  was  enough 
this  time.  While  we  shook  hands  she  said, '  Something's  going  to 
happen.'  So  I  was  ready.  Only  it  does  seem  too  good  to  be  true." 

"  Here's  the  glove  and  the  rose  you  threw  me,"  I  said,  showing 
them  inside  my  coat. 

"  Here's  the  music  you  played  to  me,"  she  answered,  touching 


WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL        89 

her  heart;  and  I  would  have  given  a  year  of  my  life  to  kiss  her. 
"  Oh,  tell  me,  is  Miss  O'Donnel  any  relation  to  you,  really  ?  " 

"  Only  a  very  good  and  clever  friend,"  said  I,  for  there  was 
not  much  time  to  waste  in  explaining  things  more  or  less  irrele- 
vant. "  All  this  was  her  idea,  to  give  me  a  chance  of  getting  near 
you.  And,  as  Cristobal's  my  name  too,  as  well  as  her  brother's, 
the  thing  has  been  managed  without  a  fib.  Brother  Cristobal  has 
leave.  Friend  Cristobal  will  spend  it  with  the  family;  that  is, 
they're  all  going  in  that  red  car  you  saw  yesterday  —  wherever 
you  go.  It  would  save  a  lot  of  anxiety  if  you  could  tell  where  that 
will  be." 

"  I  can't,"  said  Monica.  "  I  fancy  mother's  afraid  I  might  find 
some  way  of  letting  you  know ;  anyway,  the  Duke  is  always  talk- 
ing about  how  pleasant  it  is  not  to  make  plans  beforehand,  but 
to  let  each  day  arrange  itself.  I  don't  know  how  or  where  we're 
to  spend  the  time  before  we  get  to  Seville;  but  for  Holy  Week 
we're  to  be  at  the  Duke's  house.  I'm  not  afraid  of  anything, 
though,  now  you're  near;  and  I  think  I  shall  let  myself  be  happy, 
in  spite  of  the  Duke,  for  your  Spain  is  glorious,  and  I  love  it.  I 
wish  it  weren't  the  Duke's  Spain  too ! " 

"  He  thinks  it's  all  his,"  said  I.  "  Is  he  bothering  you  much  ?  " 

"  No.  He's  being  nice  to  me.  You  know,  I  refused  him  in  Biar- 
ritz; but  mother  came  in  while  I  was  doing  it,  and  told  him  that 
I  was  too  young  to  know  my  own  mind;  that  he  must  be  patient, 
and  she  could  almost  promise  I'd  change  it.  I  said  I  wouldn't, 
but  that  made  no  difference.  And  as  mother  wanted  to  come  on 
this  trip,  I  had  to  come  too.  I  have  an  idea  they've  made  up  a 
plan  between  them  that  I  shall  be  left  in  peace  till  Seville,  if  I 
behave  myself.  If  they  suspect  who  you  really  are,  though,  it 
will  be  dreadful.  I  don't  know  what  will  happen." 

"  They  can't  make  you  marry  Carmona,"  I  said. 

"No.  How  could  they?  such  things  can't  be  done  nowadays; 
at  least,  I  suppose  they  can't;  and  yet,  when  people  are  strong 
and  determined,  and  unscrupulous  too,  one  never  knows  what 
they  may  be  planning,  what  they  may  be  capable  of  doing.  Often, 


90  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

in  the  night,  I  try  to  think  what  they  cauld  do,  and  tell  myself 
they  could  do  nothing,  unless  I  consented,  which,  of  course,  I 
never  would.  Oh,  I  shall  be  very  happy  and  safe  now.  It  will  even 
be  amusing,  or  it  would  be  if  I  were  sure  the  Duke  couldn't  harm 
you." 

"He  tried  yesterday  and  failed,"  said  I.  "If  he  tries  again, 
he'll  fail  again.  But  for  the  present,  he  thinks  it  was  a  false  alarm, 
and  perhaps  believes  I've  stopped  in  Biarritz,  sulking." 

"  It  was  dangerous  for  you  to  come,"  said  Monica. 

I  laughed.  "  Don't  I  look  like  the  sort  of  fellow  who  can  take 
care  of  himself  —  and  maybe  the  girl  he  loves,  too?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  answered.  "  How  I  love  you,  and  how  proud  I 
am  of  you.  If  you  should  stop  caring  —  if  you  should  find  it 
wasn't  worth  while  —  " 

"  We've  too  few  moments  together  to  discuss  impossibilities." 

"Ah,  but  you  have  known  me  such  a  short  time.  Suppose  you 
should  see  someone  else  — "  and  she  glanced  at  Pilar's  pretty, 
heart-shaped  face,  and  the  velvet  eyes  raised  in  contemplation  of 
a  carved  Madonna. 

"There's  nobody  else  but  you  in  the  world,"  I  had  begun, 
when  Pilar  beckoned.  "  They're  coming,"  she  said.  "  You  must 
be  looking  at  this  sweet  little  panel,  Lady  Monica.  Cristobal,  go 
instantly  and  stare  as  hard  as  you  can  at  San  Geronimo  on  the 
other  side.  See,  that  pet  who  is  twisting  his  dear  feet." 

It  was  thus  they  found  us;  the  two  girls  chatting  over  the  per- 
fection of  the  tombs  of  the  constable  and  his  wife;  the  soldier 
blind  to  the  charms  of  his  sister's  companion,  and  wrapped  in 
reverent  contemplation  of  a  wooden  masterpiece. 

"  We  were  so  stupid  to  lose  you,"  said  Pilar.  "  But  we  thought 
you'd  be  sure  to  come  back  this  way  by  and  by." 


XIV 

SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S 

Wsaid  good-bye  presently,  still  in  the  cathedral, 
ill  very  polite  and  conventionally  interested  in 
;ach  other's  affairs.  Pilar  ingenuously  hoped  that 
we  might  meet  again  in  Madrid.  The  Duke  said 
he  hoped  so  too,  but  did  not  know,  as  they  were  motoring,  and 
stopped  each  day  where  fancy  prompted.    Pilar  thought  this 
charming,  and  said  that  we  were  going  to  have  a  little  trip  with 
an  automobile,  too.  An  American  friend  had  invited  us. 

At  that  very  moment  the  American  friend  was  visible  in  the 
dim  distance,  standing  with  his  back  to  us,  gazing  at  an  alabaster 
tomb.  One  would  have  thought  he  had  some  reason  for  avoiding 
us,  or  else  escaping  an  introduction  to  the  others,  for  he  let  them 
leave  the  cathedral  before  he  tore  himself  away  from  his  study  of 
the  sleeping  cardinal.  When  they  had  vanished,  however,  he 
came  towards  us  with  a  briskness  which  showed  that  he  had 
taken  more  interest  in  our  movements  than  he  appeared  to  do. 

"It's  gone  off  beautifully!"  Pilar  informed  him.  "And  you 
did  exactly  right,  Senor  Waring.  You  see,"  she  said  to  me,  "  on 
second  thoughts  one  saw  he'd  better  keep  out  of  the  way,  for  fear 
the  Duke  might  begin  to  put  two  and  two  together,  just  as  he 
was  noticing  that  Cristobal  looked  rather  like  someone  else.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Senor  Waring's  face  yesterday,  in  the  car, 
and  it  will  be  safer  for  him  not  to  see  us  in  that  car  until  we  have 
gone  on  a  little  further.  Then,  he  will  have  had  time  to  get  used 
to  my  brother's  face,  a*  my  brother's.  Wasn't  that  a  clever 
idea  of  mine  ?  " 

91 


92  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

We  all  praised  her;  and  praised  her  again  when  she  explained 
her  policy  in  having  dropped  a  hint  about  our  American  motor- 
ing friend,  so  that  she  need  not  be  suspected  of  having  tried  to 
conceal  anything  when  the  car  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"  The  Duke's  auto  was  at  the  door  when  I  came  in,"  said  Dick. 
*'  He  must  have  seen  ours." 

"  Yes.  But  he  saw  you,  too,  prowling  round  the  cathedral  by 
yourself.  I  suppose  you  have  as  much  right  to  be  motoring  in 
Spain  as  he  has,  seeing  the  sights  ?  " 

This  was  true.  And  as  the  grey  car  had  now  probably  gone  off, 
it  was  time  that  ours  persued. 

Ropes  was  in  his  seat,  coated  and  legginged  once  more  in 
leather,  and  so  well  goggled  that  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  be  associated  in  any  mind  with  that  Mr.  George  Smith 
who  had  threatened  to  air  his  wrongs  in  The  Times.  He  had  seen 
the  other  car  go,  so  we  must  follow.  We  crossed  he  Arlanzon 
and  I  looked  back  regretfully  at  the  citadel  of  Burgos,  rising  in 
the  middle  of  the  town.  We  had  had  no  time  to  visit  that  castle 
in  which  so  much  history  has  been  made.  There  the  Cid  was 
married ;  there  he  held  prisoner  Alfonso  of  Leon ;  there  was  Ed- 
ward the  First  of  England  married  to  Eleanor  of  Castile;  and 
there  Pedro  the  Cruel  first  saw  the  light.  But  if  there  was  one 
regret  more  pressing  than  another,  it  was  that  I  could  not  go  to 
the  Town  Hall  and  pay  my  respects  to  those  bones  of  the  Cid, 
and  Ximena  his  wife,  so  strangely  restored  to  Burgos,  after  their 
extraordinary  wanderings  to  far  Sigmaringen. 

"  Who  is  this  Thith  you  all  keep  talking  about  ? "  demanded 
Dick,  as  the  car  spun  along  the  river  bank. 

"  Heavens,  don't  tell  me  that  you've  been  brought  up  in  ignor- 
ance of  our  national  hero ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  If  I'd  dreamed  of  such 
a  thing,  I  couldn't  have  made  a  friend  of  you.  Why,  this  was  his 
town.  He  was  married  in  the  citadel.  He  — " 

"  How  do  you  spell  him  ?  "  asked  Dick,  cautiously. 

"C—  i—  d,  of  course." 


SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S  93 

"Great  Scott!  you  don't  mean  to  say  my  old  friend  the  Cid 
was  the  Thith  all  the  time,  and  I  never  knew  it?  What  a  blow! 
I  don't  see  why  C  —  i  —  d  shouldn't  spell  Cid,  even  in  Spanish; 
as  a  Thith  I  can't  respect  him." 

"  Then  let  him  go  to  the  grave  with  you  as  the  Cid,"  said  I. 
"  But  you  know,  or  ought  to  know,  that '  C,'  and  '  Z,'  and  some- 
times '  D '  are  '  th '  with  us." 

"I  never  bothered  much  with  trying  to  pronounce  foreign 
languages,"  said  Dick.  "  I  just  wrestle  with  the  words  the  best  I 
can  in  plain  American.  But  now  —  I  always  thought  it  rude  to 
mention  it  before  —  I  understand  why  you  Spaniards  seem  to 
lisp,  and  hiss  out  your  last  syllables  like  secrets.  As  for  the  place 
we're  going  to  next  — " 

"  Valladolid  ? "  I  pronounced  it  as  a  Spaniard  does,  "  Valya- 
doleeth." 

"  Yes.  That  beats  the  Thith.  My  tongue  isn't  built  for  it,  and 
I  shall  call  it  simply  Val." 

With  murmured  regrets  from  the  Cherub  that  we  strangers 
were  turning  our  backs  on  Burgos  without  seeing  all  its  treasures, 
and  sighs  from  Filar  for  the  Cartuja  de  Miraflores,  and  the  most 
beautiful  carved  tomb  on  earth,  we  turned  our  faces  towards 
Valladolid. 

Our  road  cut  through  the  arid  plain  that  had  stretched  before 
us  yesterday.  Few  trees  punctuated  the  sad  song  of  its  monotony ; 
but  always  in  the  distance  rose  yellow  hills  like  lions  crouched 
asleep,  lights  and  shadows  sailing  above  their  heads  with  the 
bold  swoop  of  the  Titanic  birds.  More  than  once  we  crossed  the 
poor,  single  line  of  railway,  the  main  thoroughfare  between  Paris 
and  Madrid,  and  Dick  said  that  Spain  needed  a  few  Americans 
to  wake  her  up.  Three  trains  a  day  indeed,  and  a  speed  of  fifteen 
miles  an  hour!  People  shook  their  heads  and  told  you  that  Spain 
was  no  country  to  motor  in.  Well,  it  was  certainly  no  country  to 
travel  in  by  rail,  unless  you  wanted  to  forget  where  you  were 
going  before  you  got  there.  He  wished  he  were  a  managing  direc- 
tor; or  no,  on  second  thoughts,  the  thing  he'd  prefer  would  be  to 


94  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

improve  the  future  of  the  motor  industry.  Why,  there  was  a  for- 
tune to  be  picked  up  by  some  chap  with  a  little  go,  and  a  little 
capital.  Look  at  these  roads,  now;  not  so  bad,  any  of  them,  as 
far  as  we  had  seen ;  some,  as  good  as  in  France ;  others,  only  rough 
because  science  hadn't  been  employed  in  making  them;  after 
rain  they  got  soft  and  muddy,  and  then  hardened  into  ridges. 
But  a  few  thousands  of  dollars,  well  laid  out,  would  change  that. 
Then,  with  a  good  service  of  automobiles,  see  what  could  be  done 
in  the  way  of  conveying  market  produce  and  a  hundred  other 
things.  What  was  the  matter  with  Spaniards  that  they  didn't  fix 
up  some  scheme  of  this  sort  ? 

The  Cherub,  listening  politely  to  Dick's  remarkable  Spanish, 
and  understanding  perhaps  half,  answered  mildly  that  it  would 
be  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  Spaniards  didn't  like  trouble. 

"  But  I  suppose  Spaniards  like  getting  rich,  don't  they  ?  "  said 
Dick,  who  was  resting,  and  letting  Ropes  drive,  while  he  made  a 
fourth  in  the  tonneau. 

"  They  are  not  anxious.  It  is  better  to  be  comfortable,"  mur- 
mured the  Irish-Spaniard.  "  Besides,  it  is  vulgar  to  be  too  rich, 
and  makes  one's  neighbours  unhappy.  It  is  a  thing  I  would  not 
do  myself." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Pilar.  **  It  isn't  what  you  call  sour  grapes. 
Papa  could  be  rich  if  he  liked.  We  have  copper  on  our  land,  much 
copper.  Men  came  and  told  papa  that  if  he  chose  to  work  it  he 
might  have  one  of  the  best  copper  mines  in  Spain." 

"  And  he  wouldn't  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Not  for  the  world,"  said  Colonel  O'Donnel,  with  a  flash  of 
pride  in  his  mild,  brown  eyes.  "I  do  not  come  of  that  sort  of 
people.  I  am  an  officer.  I  am  not  a  miner." 

"But,"  pleaded  Dick,  bewildered  by  this  new  type  of  man, 
who  refused  to  open  his  door  and  let  money,  tons  of  money,  roll 
in,  "  but  you  could  sell  the  land  and  make  an  enormous  profit. 
You  could  keep  shares,  and  — " 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  sell,"  replied  the  Cherub. 

"  Well,  you  might  let  others  work  the  mine  for  you." 


SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S  95 

"  But  I  prefer  living  over  it.  It's  beautiful  land.  I  would  not 
have  it  made  ugly.  My  ancestors  would  rise  from  their  graves  and 
cry  out  against  me." 

"  Still,  we  are  poor,"  said  Pilar.  "  New  brother,  pray  be  careful 
of  Cristobal's  clothes,"  and  she  laughed  merrily.  "It  will  be  a 
long  time  before  we  can  afford  to  buy  others." 

"  And  all  that  copper  eating  its  head  off  underground,"  gasped 
Dick. 

"  We  have  cousins  who  are  prouder  than  we  about  such  things," 
said  Pilar.  "Two  girls  and  their  mother,  who  live  in  Seville. 
They've  a  beautiful  old  house  with  lovely  grounds,  but  nothing 
else.  How  they  manage  not  to  starve,  the  saints  know.  They've 
sold  their  china  and  jewels  —  everything  but  their  mantillas  — 
to  keep  their  carriage ;  and  they  have  to  share  that  with  two  other 
families  of  cousins,  each  taking  it  in  turn;  but  they  have  three 
doors  to  the  carriage  —  a  door  with  the  family  crest  of  one,  a 
door  with  the  crest  of  the  second,  and  another  with  the  third;  so 
nobody  outside  knows.  A  Scotch  company  want  to  buy  their 
house  and  land  for  an  hotel,  and  have  offered  enough  money  to 
make  them  rich  for  life ;  but  they'd  rather  die  than  give  up  the 
place.  And  although  one  of  my  cousins  can  paint  beautifully,  and 
could  make  a  great  deal  by  selling  pretty  sketches  of  Seville,  her 
mother  won't  allow  it.  I  do  think  it's  carrying  pride  too  far;  but 
there  are  lots  of  people  I  know  who  are  like  that." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I'd  came  through  a  week's  illness  just 
to  hear  it  all,"  said  Dick.  "  I  can't  get  over  that  copper." 

Through  village  after  village  we  sped  smoothly,  everyone  de- 
lighted to  see  us  except  the  dogs,  who  resented  our  coming,  and 
made  driving  a  difficulty,  until  Ropes  picked  up  a  trick  which 
usually  served  to  keep  dogs  and  car  out  of  danger  from  one  an- 
other. He  would  throw  up  his  arms  suddenly  and  the  dog,  think- 
ing of  a  whip  or  a  stone,  would  mechanically  spring  out  of  harm's 
way.  By  that  time  we  would  have  whizzed  past. 

After  a  short  run  we  reached  Torquemada,  home  of  the  Grand 
Inquisitor;  crossed  the  Pisuerga  by  a  long-legged  bridge  stradd- 


96  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

ling  across  the  river-bed ;  had  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Venta  d^  Ba- 
nos;  came  to  a  straight-cut  canal  of  beryl-green  water  (which  Dick 
gloomily  pronounced  a  surprising  evidence  of  energy  in  Spain), 
and  slowed  down  to  wonder  at  a  village  of  cave  dwellings,  hollow- 
ed out  in  tiers  in  the  hillside,  above  the  road  on  our  right. 

It  was  such  a  place  as  Crockett  describes  excitingly  in  one  of 
his  books  of  adventure.  All  the  long,  yellow  flank  of  the  hill  was 
honeycombed  with  little,  dark  doorways  and  leering  windows, 
whence  wild  faces  looked.  From  hummocky  chimneys  rose  the 
smoke  of  hidden  fires  burning  in  the  heart  of  the  earth;  while 
down  in  the  road  a  donkey  or  two,  with  their  heads  in  yellow  bags 
and  their  forefeet  tied  together  with  rope,  tried  to  hop  away  up 
the  steep  hill,  as  if  they  were  gigantic  rabbits. 

By  the  waterside  stood  pollarded  trees,  scraggy  and  black, 
ranged  along  the  shore  like  naked  negro  boys,  big-headed,  with 
shaggy  lumps  of  wool,  hesitating  before  a  plunge.  The  sandy 
roads  were  welcome  after  stones,  and  suddenly  the  landscape 
began  to  copy  Africa,  with  shifting  yellow  sand  deserts,  brushed 
by  purple  shadows  of  the  Sahara.  Far  away,  the  mountains, 
rolling  along  the  wide  horizon,  glimmered  blue,  rose,  ochre,  and 
white,  like  coloured  marble  or  a  Moorish  mosaic.  Again  we  flash- 
ed past  a  troglodyte  village  in  a  hillside;  crossed  a  magnificent 
bridge,  which  even  Dick  approved;  wound  through  a  labyrinth 
of  strange  streets  like  the  streets  in  a  nightmare,  and  roads  to 
match;  smelt  mingled  perfumes  of  incense,  burning  braziers, 
cigarettes,  and  garlic  (the  true  and  intimate  smell  of  country 
Spain);  saw  Duenas,  where  fair  Isabel  la  Catolica  met  Ferdi- 
nand in  the  making  of  the  most  romantic  of  royal  courtships ; 
spun  through  Cabezon :  and  then,  as  we  entered  Valladolid,  be- 
gan bumping  and  buckjumping  over  such  chasms  and  ruts  as 
had  not  yet  insulted  our  wheels  in  Spain. 

"Heavens!  What  can  the  City  Fathers  be  thinking  about?" 
gasped  Dick,  between  the  jolts  which  even  the  best  springs  could 
not  disguise.  On  we  went,  through  that  famous  old  town  which 
Philip  the  Second  chose  for  the  capital  of  Spain ;  and  each  street 


SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S  97 

was  a  more  awful  revelation  than  the  last.  The  car  pitched  and 
rolled  like  a  vessel  in  a  choppy  sea,  shuddering  to  right  herself 
between  breakers,  though  Ropes  drove  at  walking  pace.  "  Who 
ever  heard  of  roads  being  all  right  outside  a  town,  and  going  to 
bits  in  it  ?  "  Dick  went  on.  "  Why,  in  America  —  " 

"  But  this  is  Spain,"  the  Cherub  reminded  him. 

We  had  left  Burgos  at  half-past  ten,  and  it  was  two  when  we 
plunged  into  the  town  which  Dick  shortened  to  "  Val."  There  I 
took  advantage  of  the  part  I  played,  and  sought  the  hotel  at 
which  Carmona  must  lunch  or  perhaps  put  up  for  the  night; 
but  to  my  astonishment  he  was  not  to  be  found  at  either  of  the 
two  possible  fondas.  I  was  hungry,  for  I  had  had  no  breakfast 
except  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  Sign  of  the  Cid ;  but  I  would  not  eat 
until  the  mystery  was  solved. 

The  grey  car  had  been  seen  coming  into  town,  and  none  had 
seen  it  go  out;  nevertheless  it,  with  all  its  passengers,  had  van- 
ished. While  the  others  went  through  a  high-sounding  French 
menu  at  the  hotel  first  on  the  guide-book  list,  Ropes  and  I  did 
detective  work.  It  was  he,  really,  who  picked  up  the  trail  of  the 
Lecomte,  when  we  had  walked  back  to  the  street  it  must  have 
entered  first;  and  even  for  Ropes  this  would  have  proved  an 
impossible  feat  if  our  automobiles  had  not  been  the  only  two 
which  had  passed  since  the  heavy  rains.  "  I've  got  the  pattern  of 
those  non-skids  printed  on  my  brain,  sir,  since  yesterday,"  said 
he.  "  What  I  don't  know  about  'em,  isn't  worth  knowing." 

So  he  pounced  upon  the  thick,  straight,  dotted  line  in  the  mud, 
and,  losing  it  often,  but  always  picking  it  out  again,  we  turned 
and  wound  till  the  trail  stopped  in  front  of  a  private  house.  Later, 
it  went  on ;  but  it  was  evident  that  the  car  had  paused.  The  mud 
was  much  trampled,  and  probably  luggage  had  been  taken  down. 

We  presumed,  therefore,  that  those  we  sought  were  within; 
but  the  next  thing  was  to  find  the  resting-place  of  the  Lecomte. 
lest  it  should  disappear  and  leave  us  in  the  lurch,  ignorant  of  its 
destination.  Luckily  for  us,  the  worst  was  over.  The  trail  led  to  a 
stable  not  far  away,  and  as  the  doors  stood  wide  open  we  had  the 


98  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

joyous  relief  of  seeing  the  car  being  cleansed  of  its  rich  coat  of 
mud.  The  chauffeur  was  superintending,  his  back  turned  to  the 
doors,  and  we  walked  quickly  on  lest  he  should  spy  a 
leather  coat  and  guess  that  his  own  game  was  being  played 
upon  him. 

"  Now  you  can  rest  easy,  sir,"  said  Ropes.  "  That  car  won't 
leave  this  town  without  my  knowing;  and  it'll  go  hard  if  I  aren't 
able  to  tell  you  in  the  course  of  the  next  hour  whether  it's  due  to 
start  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

I  laughed  gratefully.  "  Thank  you,  Ropes,"  said  I.  "  I  shan't 
ask  how  you  mean  to  get  your  information.  When  you  say  you 
can  do  a  thing,  I  know  it's  as  good  as  done." 

"  It's  for  me  to  thank  you,  sir  —  for  everything,"  he  replied, 
flushing  with  pleasure. 

Then  we  went  back  to  the  hotel.  And  whether  Ropes 
lunched  or  not  I  cannot  say;  but  I  did,  with  a  good 
appetite,  Dick  and  my  adopted  family  lingering  at  the  table  to 
hear  my  news. 

In  three-quarters  of  an  hour  Sherlock  Holmes  kept  his  word 
by  sending  in  a  short  note,  addressed  (as  I  had  suggested)  to 
Waring.  "Honoured  Sir,"  it  ran,  "Lecomte  remains  night. 
Master  and  friends  stopping  with  his  relatives.  Will  let  you  know 
time  of  start  in  morning,  and  have  our  car  ready  —  Respectfully, 
P.  Ropes." 

Some  servant  of  the  house  or  stable-boy  had  doubtless  earned 
a  few  pesetas.  Just  how  the  trick  had  been  done,  was  of  little 
importance,  for  it  was  done.  With  a  light  heart  in  my  breast, 
and  Cristobal  O'Donnel  y  Alvarez'  uniform  still  unsuitably 
adorning  my  back,  I  went  with  the  others  to  do  some  sightseeing, 
and  look  for  Monica. 

We  wandered  rather  aimlessly  through  the  streets,  stopping 
before  any  building  which  caught  our  interest;  staring  up  at  the 
windows  behind  which  Cervantes  wrote  part  of  "  Don  Quixote  " 
when  he  had  come  back  from  slavery;  admiring  the  graceful 
mirador  of  that  corner  house  where  Philip  the  Second  was  born ; 


SOME  LITTLE  IDEAS  OF  DICK'S  99 

("  Much  too  good  for  him,  since  the  world  would  have  been  better 
if  he  hadn't  been  born  at  all,"  said  Dick,  who  has  Dutch  ances- 
tors and  a  long  memory;)  trying  to  identify  the  place  where  Gil 
Bias  studied  medicine  with  Doctor  Sangrado;  wandering  into 
two  or  three  churches,  but  wasting  no  time  on  the  cathedral  spoilt 
by  Churriguera. 

"As  a  Spaniard,  what's  your  opinion  of  the  Inquisition?'* 
Dick  suddenly  asked  the  Cherub,  as  if  he  were  inquiring  the 
time  of  day.  We  had  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  Plaza  Mayor 
where  Philip  had  watched  the  heretics  burning  in  their  yellow, 
flame-painted  shirts,  in  the  first  great  auto-da-fe  which  he  organ- 
ized. 

As  another  Spaniard,  I  know  that  this  is  the  one  question  of 
all  others,  perhaps,  which  it  is  not  wise  to  put  to  a  Spaniard,  even 
in  this  comfortable  twentieth  century.  But  Dick  either  did  not 
know,  or  wished  it  to  appear  that  he  did  not  know ;  and  I  watched 
the  effect  of  the  words.  But  the  Cherub  was  equal  to  the  occasion 
—  and  his  cherubicness. 

He  glanced  round  instinctively,  as  a  man  might  a  few  centuries 
ago,  to  make  sure  that  nobody  overheard;  then  smiling  slowly, 
he  replied,  "  I  am  no  judge,  senor;  I  am  half-Irishman." 

Pilar  had  looked  disturbed,  but  she  gave  a  little  sigh  at  this, 
saying, "  Come  on,  and  see  the  museum." 

Nowhere  in  Spain  can  there  be  a  more  beautiful  thing  than 
that  fa9ade,  well  named  Plateresque  because  of  its  resemblance 
to  the  workmanship  of  silversmiths ;  and  inside  the  museum  we 
found  a  collection  of  carved  wooden  figures  marvellous  enough, 
as  Dick  said,  to  "  beat  the  world."  There  were  crucifixions,  paint- 
ed saints,  and  weeping  virgins  by  Hernandez  and  Berruguete, 
faultlessly  modelled,  so  vivid  and  beautiful  as  to  be  well-nigh 
startling ;  and  I  hoped  that  Monica  might  come  while  we  lingered. 
But  she  did  not,  nor  did  we  see  her  in  the  Colegio  de  San  Gre- 
gorio.  There,  in  the  lovely  inner  court,  however,  I  found  a 
little  grey  glove  on  the  marble  pavement,  and  so  like  a 
certain  other  glove  did  it  look  that  I  annexed  it,  to  compare 


100  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

with  that  other  which  lived  in  my  breast-pocket  with  its  friend 
the  rose. 

The  pair  matched  in  size,  colour,  and  dainty  shape.  Even  the 
fragrance  of  orris  hung  about  it,  and  I  knew  this  second  glove 
had  not  been  dropped  by  accident.  Monica  had  been  here,  and 
she  had  left  a  message  for  me  to  read  if  I  followed. 


LECOMTE  getting  ready,  sir, "  were  Ropes'  first  words 
to  me  next  morning;  "and  I've  brought  our  car 
to  the  door." 

He  had  other  news,  too.  An  automobile  had  come  in 
last  night  from  Madrid,  a  sixty  horse-power  Merlin,  and  the 
chauffeur  had  reported  snow  hah*  a  metre  deep  on  the  moun- 
tains. The  Merlin  had  stuck,  he  said,  and  had  to  be  pulled  out 
with  oxen.  Supposing  the  Duke  intended  going  to  Madrid  in- 
stead of  turning  off  by  way  of  Salamanca,  he  —  and  incidentally 
we  —  seemed  likely  to  come  in  for  an  adventure. 

We  had  all  taken  coffee  and  rolls  in  our  rooms,  as  nobody 
dreams  of  going  downstairs  for  breakfast  in  a  Spanish  hotel; 
and  soon  after  eight  we  were  jolting  out  of  "  Val "  through  streets 
as  execrably  paved  as  those  by  which  we  entered.  We  had  kept 
Ropes  waiting  after  his  announcement  only  long  enough  to  strap 
our  luggage  on  the  roof;  and  as  the  other  car  had  luggage  and 
passengers  also  to  pick  up,  we  were  just  in  time  to  see  it  leaving 
the  house  of  the  Duke's  relations  with  everyone  on  board. 

As  the  Lecomte  took  the  road  to  the  south  on  leaving  town,  it 
gave  us  an  assurance  that  it  would  not  make  for  Salamanca; 
but  there  was  still  doubt  as  to  its  movements.  It  could  go  to 
Madrid  direct  over  the  snow  heights  of  the  Sierra  Guadarrama, 
or  it  could  pay  a  visit  to  the  Escurial.  It  might  even  halt  there 
for  the  night;  and  as  there  were  so  many  alternatives,  we  were 
anxious  to  keep  our  leader  continually  in  view. 

The  wind  was  bitter  cold,  and  Pilar  shivered  in  her  cloak, 

101 


102  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

which  was  not  made  for  motoring.  When  Dick  saw  this,  before 
I  could  speak  he  had  his  own  fur-lined  coat  off,  insisting  that 
she  should  put  it  on.  "I  can  take  Casa  Triana's, "  said  he, 
*'  since  he's  still  posing  as  a  soldier  of  Spain. "  And  a  glance 
warned  me  not  to  blunder  by  asking  why,  in  the  name  of  common 
sense,  she  shouldn't  have  mine  which  I  wasn't  using,  instead  of 
his,  which  was  on  his  back.  He  wanted  her  to  wear  his  coat,  and 
hang  common  sense! 

After  an  instant's  stupid  bewilderment  I  saw  this,  and  could 
hardly  help  chuckling.  How  many  days  had  he  known  her? 
Two  and  a  bit.  At  Biarritz  he  had  given  me  sound  advice  on  my 
affairs;  couldn't  understand  this  fall-in-love-at-sight  business; 
thought  a  girl  wasn't  worth  a  red  cent  till  she  was  twenty-two 
couldn't  see  himself  being  sentimental  in  any  circumstances; 
was  going  to  wait  to  make  his  choice  till  he  went  back  to  America; 
believed  a  man  owed  it  to  his  own  country  to  put  his  country- 
women first;  and  anyhow  couldn't  stand  a  girl  who  wasn't  able 
to  converse  rationally.  Yet  Pilar,  if  she  were  to  talk  with  him  in 
his  own  tongue,  must  perforce  limit  her  scintillations  to  "  Varry 
nice,  lo-vely,  all  raight " ;  while,  if  he  wrestled  with  hers,  he  could 
scarcely  go  beyond  phrase-book  limits. 

The  language  of  the  eyes  remained ;  but  that  has  no  place  in 
the  realm  of  common  sense.  My  overcoat  was  singularly  un- 
becoming to  Dick;  but  he  beamed  with  happiness  in  it,  as  he 
regarded  Pilar  cosily  folded  in  his;  and  looking  on  the  picture, 
certain  things  occurred  to  me  which  I  might  say  to  Dick  when  I 
got  him  alone.  But  after  all,  I  thought  I  would  keep  them  to 
laugh  over  myself. 

On  this  morning  of  biting  wind  and  brilliant  sun,  there  was 
still  more  dazzle  of  snow  to  illumine  the  mountain  tops;  and 
though  the  road  was  dull,  the  beauty  of  the  atmospheric  effects 
was  worth  coming  to  Spain  to  see.  The  road  we  travelled  and 
the  near  meadows  seemed,  as  we  went  speeding  on,  the  only 
solid  ground  in  sight;  as  if  we  had  landed  on  an  island 
floating  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  through  a  vast 


HOW  THE  DUKE  CHANGED  103 

sea  of  translucent  tints  that  changed  with  the  light,  as  an 
opal  changes. 

Forests  of  strangely  bunchy  "  umbrella "  pines  were  blots  of 
dark  green  ink  splashed  against  the  sky ;  and  scarcely  five  minutes 
passed  but  we  saw  the  finger  of  an  old  watch-tower  pointing 
cloudward  from  a  hill.  Sometimes  our  road,  dividing  endless 
cornfields,  stretched  before  us  long  and  straight  for  miles  ahead, 
over  switchback  after  switchback,  as  if  the  hills  chased  each 
other  but  never  succeeded  in  catching  up.  Then,  when  we  had 
grown  used  to  such  an  outlook,  the  road  would  twist  so  suddenly 
that  it  seemed  to  spring  up  in  our  faces.  It  would  turn  upon  it- 
self and  writhe  like  a  wounded  cobra,  before  it  was  able  to  crawl 
on  again. 

Ours  was  a  silent,  uninhabited  world,  without  a  house  visible 
anywhere,  save  here  and  there  some  stony  ruin  —  a  landmark 
of  the  Peninsular  War.  One  could  but  think  that  gnomes  stole 
out  at  night  from  holes  under  the  hills,  to  till  the  land  for  absentee 
owners;  for  the  illimitable  fields  were  cultivated  down  to  the 
last  inch.  We  shared  a  queer  impression  that  we  had  strayed 
into  a  country  which  no  human  eye  had  seen  for  centuries ;  but 
when  we  crossed  the  broad  Douro  running  to  the  Bay  of  Biscay 
and  Oporto,  and  steered  the  car  jerkily  through  the  ragged 
village  of  Mojales,  at  an  abrupt  turn  of  the  road  we  were  in  a 
different  world  —  a  desert  of  stones. 

Prehistoric  giants  had  played  with  dolmens  and  cyclopean 
boulders,  and  left  their  toys  scattered  in  confusion.  Stonehenge 
might  have  been  copied  from  one  of  their  strange  structures ;  and 
they  had  given  later  races  a  rough  idea  of  forts  and  cities.  Giant 
children  had  fashioned  stone  elephants,  heads  of  warriors,  dogs 
sitting  on  their  haunches,  granite  drinking  cups,  and  misshapen 
baskets,  all  of  astonishing  size.  Or  was  it  water,  slow  as  the  mills 
of  the  gods,  and  as  sure,  which  had  wrought  all  these  fantastic 
designs,  and  piled  these  tremendous  blocks  one  upon  another  ? 

A  high  stone  bridge  spanned  a  rocky  ravine  carved  by  that 
slow  power  in  a  few  leisure  millions  of  years;  and  there,  sheltered 


104  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

from  the  wind,  would  have  been  an  ideal  place  for  motorists 
to  picnic.  But  the  Duke  did  not  picnic,  therefore  we  must  not. 
Following  hard  upon  his  heels  we  went  on,  up  and  up  into  the 
mountain  world,  still  in  the  playground  of  vanished  giants, 
winding  along  a  road  as  wild  as  the  way  to  Montenegro.  Rising 
at  regular  intervals  before  us,  on  either  side  stood  tall  stone 
columns,  sentinel-like,  placed  in  pairs  to  guide  wayfarers  through 
white  drifts  in  time  of  winter  storms.  The  country  was  wooded, 
and  began  to  have  the  air  of  a  private  park,  though  the  heights 
were  close  above  us  now,  and  our  road  ascended  steadily.  From 
the  scenery  of  Montenegro  we  came  plump  into  the  Black 
Forest;  and  Baden-Baden  might  have  lain  in  the  valley  below 
these  pointed  mountains  clothed  in  mourning  pines. 

Squish!  The  brown  slush  of  melted  snow  gushed  out  in  foun- 
tains as  our  fat  tyres  ploughed  through,  and  on  either  hand  it 
lay  unbroken  in  virgin  purity  beneath  the  pines.  Half  a  mile 
higher,  and  even  the  traffic  of  heavy  ox-carts  and  the  sun's 
fierce  fire  had  had  no  power  to  break  the  marble  pavement. 
It  was  shattered  and  chipped,  and  carved  into  deep  ruts  by 
wooden  wheels;  but  there  were  no  muddy  veins  of  brown.  Ten 
minutes  more,  and  our  engine  began  to  labour.  Then,  before  there 
was  time  to  count  the  moments,  we  were  in  snow  to  our  axles. 

The  motor's  heart  beat  hard,  but  with  a  sturdy,  dependable 
noise  which  comforted  Pilar,  who  was  half  laughing,  half 
frightened,  at  this  her  first  adventure.  At  any  instant  now  we 
might  come  upon  the  Lecomte  held  in  the  snow-trap  which 
threatened  to  catch  us. 

Ropes  kept  the  car  in  the  wide  ruts  made  by  ox -carts,  but  even 
with  his  good  driving  we  swayed  to  right  and  left,  leaving  the 
rough  track  and  ploughing  into  drifts  dangerously  near  the 
precipice  edge,  or  skidding  as  if  we  skated  on  polished  ice,  failing 
to  grip  the  frozen  surface. 

Now  was  the  time  to  relieve  the  willing  engine.  Dick  and  I 
sprang  out,  and  Colonel  O'Donnel  followed,  though  we  would 
have  persuaded  him  to  keep  his  place.  Only  Pilar  was  left  in  the 


HOW  THE  DUKE  CHANGED  105 

car,  with  Ropes  driving,  while  we  three  men,  knee  deep  in  snow, 
set  our  shoulders  to  help  the  Gloria  as  she  made  the  supreme 
effort.  Pushing,  and  slipping  at  every  step,  our  blood  (which  had 
run  sluggishly  with  cold)  racing  through  our  veins,  we  were 
putting  on  a  great  spurt  of  united  force,  when  gallantly  rounding 
a  bend  we  all  but  rammed  the  back  of  Carmona's  car. 

There  it  was,  stuck  in  a  drift  like  a  frozen  wave;  and  there 
was  Carmona  himself  up  to  his  knees  in  diamond  dust,  gloomily 
superintending  his  chauffeur  who  packed  snow  into  the  radiator 
to  cool  the  overheated  motor. 

All  the  extra  power  of  the  Lecomte  gave  no  advantage  over 
the  Gloria  here.  Fate  had  set  the  stage  for  us,  and  we  must  obey 
the  cue.  No  ingenuity  of  Pilar's  could  hide  us  in  the  wings  any 
longer,  and  we  must  play  our  parts  as  Destiny  prompted. 

Only  one  thing  was  clear.  Carmona  could  have  had  no  idea 
until  now  that  the  O'Donnels  (with  that  young  soldier  so  like 
the  Forbidden  Man)  were  travelling  in  the  red  car  whence  he  had 
already  plucked  a  suspected  passenger.  The  coincidence  would 
seem  strange  to  him;  and  if  he  were  sure  enough  of  his  ground 
to  risk  another  error,  he  would  probably  denounce  me  to  the 
police  in  the  next  big  town.  Disguising  my  outcast  self  as  an 
officer  in  a  Spanish  regiment  would  not  be  a  point  in  my  favour; 
but  —  he  could  do  nothing  now.  Monica  was  here,  and  the 
moment  was  mine. 

There  was  a  savage  joy  in  the  situation,  born  of  exaltation,  of 
the  high  altitude,  and  of  uncertainty  as  to  what  might  come  next. 

"Shall  you  keep  out  of  the  way?"  asked  Dick;  for  we  were 
still  screened  from  Carmona's  sight  by  our  own  car,  which  Ropes 
had  stopped  with  a  grinding  of  the  brake;  and  Pilar's  face  was 
veiled. 

"Not  I.  I'm  going  to  have  some  fun,"  I  answered.  "It  must 
come  sooner  or  later,  better  sooner,  or  what's  the  good  of  playing 
Cristobal  O'Donnel?" 

With  that,  I  appeared  from  behind  the  car,  and  the  others 
were  following,  while  Pilar  leaned  out  in  anxious  expectancy. 


106  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

**  How  do  you  do  ? "  said  I,  in  Andaluz  as  lazy  as  the  othef 
Cristobal  could  have  used.  I  took  off  my  cap  to  the  ladies,  and 
so  did  Dick  and  the  Cherub,  exposing  heated  foreheads,  damp 
from  honest  toil.  "  Sorry  to  find  you  in  such  a  difficulty.  But  we'll 
soon  get  you  out  of  that,  won't  we,  Senor  Waring  ?  Here  are  three 
of  us  with  stout  shoulders  and  willing  hearts. " 

"  Four,  counting  my  chauffeur, "  said  Dick  in  English,  playing 
up  to  my  lead,  since  there  was  no  stopping  me  now.  "We're 
delighted  to  do  anything  we  can. " 

Carmona  glared  as  an  animal  glares  when  it  is  at  bay;  only, 
an  animal  can  attack  his  enemies,  and  he  could  not  attack  us; 
for  he  was  not  sure  whether  we  were  enemies  or  no,  and  whether 
he  would  not  be  making  a  fool  of  himself  if  he  let  us  know  what 
passed  in  his  brain. 

It  was  evident  that  he  thought  very  hard  for  a  moment,  and 
was  of  two  minds  as  to  what  he  had  better  do.  But  suddenly  the 
baited  look  vanished  from  his  face,  as  a  shadow  is  chased  away 
by  the  sun,  and  I  guessed  that  a  course  of  action  had 
occurred  to  him  with  which  he  was  well  satisfied.  This  seemed 
ominous  for  me,  and  I  would  have  given  something  to  read  his 
thoughts. 

He  answered  our  "  How  do  you  do  ? "  with  great  cordiality  — 
for  him ;  said  that  he  had  been  taken  by  surprise,  at  first,  as  he 
had  no  idea  the  motoring  tour  of  which  Senorita  Pilar  spoke 
would  begin  so  soon,  or  bring  us  upon  his  track.  It  was  a  good 
thing  for  him,  however,  that  we  were  here,  and  not  only  was  he 
pleased  to  see  us  for  our  own  sakes,  but  would  be  glad  to  accept 
our  kind  offer. 

Meanwhile  Pilar  had  pushed  up  her  veil,  and  she  and  Monica 
were  exchanging  greetings.  As  for  Lady  Vale- A  von,  her  veil  was 
up,  too,  and  her  lorgnettes  at  her  eyes.  I  did  not  doubt  that  she 
and  the  Duke  had  compared  impressions  concerning  our  family 
party,  after  the  episode  at  Burgos,  impressions  startlingly  con- 
firmed now,  and  Carmona's  cordiality  in  such  circumstances 
must  have  puzzled  her.  As  to  the  Duchess,  her  large  face  was 


HOW  THE  DUKE  CHANGED  107 

hidden  behind  a  thick  screen  of  lead-coloured  tissue,  and  I  could 
judge  nothing  of  her  feelings. 

When  Monica  heard  the  proposal  for  propelling  the  grey  car 
through  the  drifts,  she  had  the  door  open  in  an  instant,  and 
would  have  been  out  in  the  deep  snow,  if  we  had  not  stopped 
her. 

"  You  must  all  stay  where  you  are, "  said  Carmona  hurriedly, 
fearing,  perhaps,  that  some  opportunity  for  a  word  would  be 
snatched  in  spite  of  him,  if  I  were  really  Casa  Triana.  "The 
weight  of  three  women  makes  no  difference  whatever;  isn't  that 
true,  sefior?"  and  he  turned  to  Dick,  who,  according  to  our 
story,  was  the  owner  of  the  red  automobile  as  well  as  the  host 
of  the  party. 

Of  course  Dick  agreed,  and  so  did  we  all,  that  the  ladies  were 
not  on  any  account  to  get  out.  The  Duke's  chauffeur  jumped 
into  his  place  again,  and,  with  a  twist  of  the  starting  handle, 
the  tired  motor  quivered  to  its  iron  entrails.  There  was  a  sudden 
awaking  of  carburetor,  pistons,  sparking-plugs,  valves,  trembler, 
each  part  which  had  been  resting  after  the  long  pull,  striving 
to  obey  its  master.  With  a  sighing  scream  of  the  gearing,  the  car 
stumbled  forward  and  up,  our  united  force  pressed  into  service. 
Staggering,  plunging,  pushing,  we  gave  all  the  help  we  could,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  it  seemed  that  with  our  aid  the  motor  would 
claw  its  way  to  the  highest  point. 

Our  hearts  drummed  in  our  breasts,  and  sent  the  hot  blood 
jumping  to  our  heads  as  if  in  sympathy  with  the  mighty  struggle 
of  the  engine.  But  the  Lecomte's  forty  horses,  and  the  strength 
and  goodwill  of  five  men  —  counting  Carmona,  who  did  as  little 
work  as  he  could  —  were  not  enough.  The  wheels  sank  to  the 
axles,  whizzing  round  in  the  snow  without  propelling  the  car; 
with  the  motor  unable  to  do  its  part,  we  men  alone  could  not  do 
all.  The  automobile  would  not  budge  for  all  our  pushing;  and, 
seeing  that  labour  was  lost,  we  stopped  to  breathe  and  raise  our 
eyebrows  questioningly  at  one  another.  Carmona,  alarmed  at 
finding  that  his  chestnuts  could  not  be  pulled  out  of  the  fire  by 


108  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

any  cat's-paws  at  his  service,  wondered  audibly  what  he  ought 
to  do. 

"Someone  who  came  to  Valladolid  last  night  was  hauled 
through  the  drifts  by  oxen, "  said  I.  And  even  as  I  spoke,  like  a 
ram  caught  in  the  bushes  ready  for  the  sacrifice,  I  spied  in  the 
white  distance  the  black  silhouette  of  an  enormous  ox. 

He  was  not  alone,  for  a  more  penetrating  glance  showed  that 
he  had  a  yoke-fellow  as  big  and  black  as  himself;  and  guided  by 
a  red-sashed  boy  in  scarf  and  shawl  they  advanced  towards  us 
slowly  but  so  surely  that  I  suspected  something  more  than  a 
coincidence.  The  great  lumbering  animals  were  like  blobs  of 
ink  against  the  snow,  and  the  lithe  figure  of  the  boy  made  a  fine 
spot  of  colour  as  he  walked  before  his  beasts,  his  stick  to  their 
noses  as  if  it  were  a  magnet  which  they,  anchored  head  to  head 
with  a  beam  of  wood,  were  compelled  to  follow. 

It  flashed  into  my  mind  that  this  youth  and  his  oxen  were  not 
wandering  through  mountain  snow-drifts  for  nothing.  The 
wolves  which  howl  in  these  same  wild  fastnesses  on  a  winter 
night  scent  prey;  and  so  I  thought  did  the  boy,  with  the  trifling 
substitute  of  petrol  for  blood.  This  youth  had  made  a  good  haul 
(in  every  sense  of  the  word)  by  accident  yesterday;  was  out 
searching  for  other  hauls  to-day,  and  would  be  while  the  snow 
lasted. 

We  hailed  him.  He  feigned  surprise,  and  hesitated,  as  if  to 
enhance  his  value.  Then,  casting  down  long  lashes  as  he  listened 
to  our  proposal,  pretended  to  consider  pros  and  cons.  It  would 
be  a  terrible  strain  for  his  animals  to  drag  such  a  great  weight, 
but  —  oh,  certainly  they  would  be  able  to  do  it.  They  were  docile 
and  strong.  Every  day  nearly  they  drew  heavy  loads  of  cut  logs 
over  the  mountains.  For  twenty  pesetas  he  would  risk  injuring 
his  oxen,  but  not  a  real  less;  and  they  would  drag  the  grey  car 
to  the  top  of  the  pass,  that  he  could  promise. 

"  What  extortion ! "  protested  Carmona,  who  is  not  famed  for 
generosity,  except  when  something  can  be  made  out  of  it. 

"  Oh,  he's  too  handsome  to  beat  down ! "  pleaded  Monica. 


HOW  THE  DUKE  CHANGED  109 

That  settled  it.  To  please  her  he  would  have  given  twice 
twenty  pesetas  for  half  the  distance.  The  boy  was  engaged  with- 
out further  haggling;  the  animals  were  harnessed  to  the  big 
Lecomte  with  rope  which  the  youth  "  happened  "  to  have ;  and 
with  a  thrilling  cry  of  "A-r-r-r-i!  O-lah!"  he  struck  the  two 
black  backs  with  his  goad. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  see  it ! "  Monica  cried,  covering  her  eyes,  as 
the  great  heads  were  lowered  to  adjust  the  strain,  and  every 
muscle  in  the  powerful,  docile  bodies  writhed  and  bunched  with 
the  tremendous  effort.  Big  as  they  were,  it  seemed  impossible 
that  two  oxen  could  do  for  the  car,  with  passengers  and  luggage, 
what  its  own  engine  refused  to  do;  nevertheless  the  huge  thing 
moved,  at  first  with  a  shuddering  jerk,  then  with  a  steady,  if 
lumbering  crawl. 

"O-lah!"  shouted  the  boy;  "thump"  on  the  thick  hide  over 
the  straining  muscles  fell  the  goad,  and  thus  the  car  lurched 
through  the  deep  snow,  all  of  us  following  except  Ropes,  who 
having  poured  melted  snow  into  the  radiator,  and  let  the  cooling 
stream  flow  through  the  waterpipes,  was  bringing  on  the  Gloria 
slowly,  by  her  own  power.  She  had  now  but  two  passengers,  and 
not  half  as  much  luggage  as  the  Lecomte,  which  perhaps  ex- 
plained her  prowess ;  nevertheless  I  was  proud.  "  Brava,  Gloria ! " 
I  should  have  liked  to  shout. 

I  could  now  have  pushed  ahead,  and  keeping  pace  with 
Carmona's  car,  as  the  oxen  struggled  nobly  up  the  pass,  have 
tried  for  a  word  or  two  with  Monica.  But  perhaps  Lady  Vale- 
Avon  expected  such  a  move  on  the  part  of  the  troublesome  young 
officer;  and  by  way  of  precaution  she  had  crowded  near  to  the 
girl  in  the  tonneau.  A  conversation  worth  having  would  have 
been  hopeless  thus  spied  upon,  and  I  disappointed  the  chaperon 
by  making  no  such  attempt. 

To  my  surprise,  Carmona  walked  with  us,  instead  of  forging 
on  beside  his  own  car.  His  friendliness  puzzled  me.  Each  look 
directed  at  my  face  was  sharp  as  a  gimlet,  though  his  words  were 
genial;  but  the  final  shock  came  when  he  announced  that  he  was 


110  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

bound  for  the  Escurial,  and  asked  if  we  would  like  to  join  his 
party. 

"  I  know  the  palace  like  a  book  —  better  than  I  know  most 
books, "  said  he ;  "  and  if  you've  never  been,  I  can  get  you  into 
places  not  usually  shown. " 

The  Cherub  thanked  Heaven  that  he  had  never  been ;  and  far 
would  it  be  from  him  to  go  to-day  or  any  other  day.  He  had 
beheld  the  Escurial  from  outside,  and  had  been  depressed  to 
the  verge  of  tears.  Often  since  he  had  consoled  himself  for  various 
misfortunes  by  reflecting  that,  at  worst,  he  was  not  enduring 
them  at  the  Escurial.  But  he  would  sit  in  the  automobile  and 
compose  himself  to  doze  while  his  dear  children  and  friends 
were  martyred  in  the  Monastery. 

"  You're  very  good  to  personally  conduct  us, "  Dick  answered 
the  Duke,  "  but  we've  no  time  for  the  Escurial. " 

"  It  will  be  worth  while  to  make  time, "  I  hurried  to  break  in, 
though  Dick  glared  a  warning  which  said,  "  You  silly  ass,  don't 
you  see  the  man's  laying  a  trap,  and  you're  falling  into  it  ?" 

I  was  ready  to  risk  that  trap,  and  realizing  that  I  meant  to  see 
the  thing  through,  Dick  urged  no  further  objections. 


XVI 

A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S 

PILAR  said  that  the  oxen  were  idiotic   dears  to  break 
their  hearts  for  nothing,  not  even  a  percentage  on  the 
twenty  pesetas.  But  four-footed   beasts  are  tragically 
conscientious,  and  these  farmyard  martyrs  accomplished 
their  task  without  a  groan,  while  the  Gloria  crept  up  close  be- 
hind on  her  own  power. 

I  thanked  the  patron  saint  of  cow  creation  when  the  straining 
brutes  got  to  the  top.  The  summit  of  the  pass  was  crowned  by  a 
lion  on  a  granite  pedestal;  a  lion  with  a  cold  air  of  pride  in 
his  mission  of  marking  the  limit  between  Old  Castile  and 
New.  For  me  also  he  marked  something  for  which  I  owed 
him  gratitude;  my  deeper  advance  into  the  heart  of  my  own 
land. 

Close  to  our  resting-place  at  the  top  of  the  pass  there  was  a 
rude  hut,  and  one  or  two  wagons  which  had  strained  up  from 
the  other  side  were  halting  their  smoking  teams.  Here,  seated 
in  the  car  again,  as  we  waited  to  see  the  oxen  unyoked  and  the 
boy  paid,  a  girl  came  out  from  the  little  house  with  a  large 
volume,  in  which  she  asked  us  to  sign  our  names.  The  Cherub 
scrawled  something;  and  as  Dick  was  scribbling,  Carmona 
strolled  across,  to  see  whether  or  no  I  entrusted  my  name  to  the 
book.  I  had  meant  not  to  do  so,  but  now  I  would  have  changed 
my  mind  had  not  Colonel  O'Donnel  stopped  me.  "  I  wrote  your 
name,  Cristobal,"  said  he,  in  his  ambrosial  voice;  and  the 
situation  was  saved.  Carmona  made  some  commonplace  remark 
to  account  for  his  approach,  and  walked  away  with  a  self- 

111 


112  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

conscious  back,  as  Pilar's  glance  and  Monica's  crossed  the 
distance  between  the  two  automobiles  and  met  mischievously. 

The  grey  car  took  the  lead  again,  and  at  a  turn  of  the  road 
it  seemed  that  the  whole  world  lay  at  our  feet;  yet  it  was  not  even 
all  of  Old  Castile,  so  vast  a  country  is  my  Spain. 

Far  as  the  eye  could  travel  spread  the  fair  land,  green  with 
the  tender  green  of  spring,  yellow  with  patches  of  golden  sand, 
darkly  tufted  with  woods;  struck  with  flying  shafts  of  light, 
ringed  in  with  ethereal  blue. 

Nothing  could  steal  from  me  this  illuminated  missal  of 
memories,  and  were  I  to  be  banished  to-morrow,  I  should  have 
Spain  to  keep  in  my  heart,  I  said,  as  we  rushed  down  the  steep, 
winding  way  that  serpentined  along  the  southern  slope  of  the 
Guadarrama.  A  breakneck  road  it  was,  but  nobly  engineered, 
twisting  back  upon  itself  in  many  coils,  letting  us  fly  with  the 
speed  of  a  bird  to  lower  levels;  and  it  seemed  that  scarcely  had 
we  sunk  over  the  brink  of  the  mountain  than  we  were  at  the  turn 
on  the  right  which  would  lead  to  the  Escurial. 

Straight  before  us,  rising  out  of  the  bare  mountain  side  and 
seeming  a  part  of  it,  towered  and  stretched  a  building  vaster  than 
any  I  had  seen  even  in  the  limitless  spaces  of  dreamland.  Were 
it  not  for  its  cold  regularity,  I  should  have  thought  myself 
approaching  another  desert  of  giants  who  made  toys  of  monoliths 
and  obelisks;  but  these  appalling  domes  and  towers  could  be  the 
work  of  man  alone.  There  was  no  toying  here;  all  was  forbidding 
and  gloomy;  for  this  was  the  Escurial — immense,  sinister,  as 
if  fashioned  from  the  grim  product  of  those  iron  mines  which 
gave  its  name. 

I  could  imagine  the  fanatical  satisfaction  Philip's  dry  mind 
had  found  in  planning  this  monument  to  represent  the  gridiron 
on  which  Saint  Lawrence  was  martyred.  He  who  was  to  stand  in 
history  as  the  great  Inquisitor,  must  build  his  monastery  and 
palace  in  honour  of  a  martyr!  But  Philip  was  the  last  man  to 
have  a  sense  of  humour;  and  it  was  like  him  to  appease  an 
injured  saint  by  giving  him  a  church  a  thousand  times  bigger 


A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S  113 

than  the  one  destroyed  on  Saint  Lawrence's  own  day,  in  the 
battle  of  San  Quentin. 

"  Wouldn't  the  Escurial  be  hideous  if  it  were  anywhere  else 
but  just  here?"  asked  Pilar. 

She  was  right;  for  on  the  Sierra  it  seemed  an  expression  of  the 
Sierra;  and  in  spite  of  Philip  rather  than  because  of  him,  it  was 
splendid  in  the  melancholy  strength  which  made  it  a  brother 
of  mountains. 

We  lunched  on  extremely  Spanish  food  at  a  jonda  opposite 
the  Escurial ;  and  when  the  time  came  for  sightseeing  —  a  time 
for  us,  but  not  for  the  public  —  the  Duke  began  by  marshalling 
us  all,  except  the  weary  Duchess  and  the  lazy  Cherub,  through 
the  great  door  guarded  by  Saint  Lawrence.  Once  within,  we 
saw  the  treasures,  as  a  bird  in  flight  sees  the  beauties  of  a  town 
over  which  he  swoops ;  but  we  did  see  them,  and  once  I  had  three 
words  and  one  look  from  Monica,  before  it  occurred  to  Lady 
Vale- A  von  to  link  an  arm  in  her  daughter's,  in  a  sudden  over- 
flow of  maternal  affection. 

Carmona  had  made  a  point  of  the  "influence"  which  could 
open  for  us  doors  that,  for  others,  would  remain  shut;  and  he  did 
smuggle  us  into  the  Library  of  Manuscripts,  the  Queen's 
Oratory,  and  the  Capilla  Mayor  to  see  the  royal  tombs.  But 
after  we  had  stopped  longer  than  he  wished  in  the  church,  and 
the  Choir,  where  Philip  learned  that  Lepanto  had  saved  Europe 
from  the  Turks,  and  listened  to  the  sad  music  of  Mary  Stuart's 
requiem,  the  Duke  promised  something  still  better,  in  the  palace. 
"  What  you  shall  see  there, "  he  said,  "  is  a  secret.  It  was  a  secret 
of  King  Philip's  —  so  great  a  secret  that  even  the  writers  of 
guide-books  know  nothing  of  it;  while,  if  a  tourist  should  have 
heard  a  rumour  and  asked  a  question,  the  attendants  would  say, 
'There's  no  such  thing  in  existence.'  Only  the  Royal  Family 
know,  a  few  privileged  people  about  the  Court,  and  the  guardians 
of  the  Escurial.  As  for  me,  I  was  told  by  someone  here  —  some- 
one whom  I  myself  placed  in  the  palace. " 

My  curiosity  was  excited;  and  even  Dick,  who  resented  this 


114  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

expedition,  looked  interested  as  we  arrived  at  the  palace  —  the 
great  gridiron's  handle.  At  the  entrance  Carmona  separated 
himself  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  saying  that  he  must  have  a 
few  words  in  private  with  the  attendant  who  would  show  the 
rooms  of  Philip  the  Second.  He  walked  ahead,  engaged  the 
brown-liveried  guide  in  low-voiced  conversation,  and  seemed 
to  ask  a  question  with  some  eagerness. 

Observing  the  pantomime  from  a  distance,  I  fancied  that, 
for  some  reason,  Carmona  was  to  be  denied  the  privilege  of 
which  he  had  boasted;  but,  apparently,  he  did  not  intend  to 
accept  defeat  without  a  struggle.  He  and  the  guide  moved  on, 
then  stopped  again  to  argue  —  this  time  with  their  backs  to  us; 
but,  from  the  action  of  Carmona's  elbows,  I  judged  that  he  put 
his  hand  into  his  pocket.  Five  or  six  iiinutes  later  he  returned, 
to  announce  that  after  some  difficulty  he  had  succeeded  in  getting 
his  own  way.  We  might  go,  unattended,  into  the  private  apart- 
ments of  Philip  the  Second;  and  while  we  were  there,  other 
visitors  would  be  kept  out.  "If  there  are  any,  they'll  be  taken 
another  round, "  said  Carmona,  "  and  won't  be  ready  to  come 
into  the  King's  rooms  until  we're  ready  to  come  out. " 

The  guide  led  us  down  the  narrow  staircase  to  the  outer  door 
of  Philip's  suite,  then  slipped  away,  shutting  the  door  behind 
him.  Lady  Vale-Avon  and  Monica  (the  mother  still  clasping 
her  daughter's  arm),  Pilar,  Dick,  Carmona,  and  I  were  now 
alone  between  the  gloomy  walls  behind  which  the  bigot  and 
despot  had  lived  his  miserable  life  and  died  his  miserable  death. 

There  was  a  chill  in  the  sombre  place  which  froze  the  spirit ; 
yet  I,  for  one,  did  not  feel  sad.  I  was  conscious  only  of  an  excited 
expectancy,  as  if  I  were  waiting  for  something  to  happen. 

We  let  our  imagination  set  the  meagre  form  of  Philip  in  his 
chair,  or  by  the  desk  at  which  he  used  to  write ;  examined  the  grim 
relics  of  his  monk-like  existence ;  and  finally  moved  to  the  death- 
chamber,  set  like  a  stage-box  at  the  theatre,  beside  the  high  altar 
of  the  chapel. 

So  small  was  the  room  that  it  was  filled  by  our  little  party  of  six; 


A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S  115 

yet  I  felt  there  another  presence  which  none  of  us  could  see  —  a 
grey  ghost  agonising  for  his  sins,  through  a  bleak  eternity. 

Monica  felt  it  too,  for  she  shivered,  and  exclaimed,  "  Let  us  go. 
This  room  seems  haunted  with  evil.  I  can't  breathe  in  it. " 

"  But  now  for  the  secret, "  said  Carmona.  "  Would  you  guess 
at  any  hidden  opening  in  these  walls  ?  " 

We  stared  critically  about,  and  I  began  to  test  the  wainscot, 
but  the  Duke  stopped  me.  "You'd  never  find  the  place,"  he 
said;  " and  I  promised  the  person  who  told  me  not  to  give  away 
the  secret;  but  that  doesn't  prevent  me  from  showing  you  what's 
behind  the  door. " 

He  moved  close  to  the  wall,  stood  for  an  instant,  then  stepped 
back,  as  we  heard  a  slight  clicking  sound,  like  the  snap  of  a 
spring  on  an  old  box-lid.  At  the  same  time  a  part  of  the  wains- 
coting rolled  away,  leaving  a  narrow  aperture. 

It  was  dark  on  the  other  side,  but  Carmona  took  a  gold  match- 
box from  his  pocket  and  struck  a  bunch  of  little  wax  fosforos. 

"  Philip  had  this  cell  made  for  a  place  of  penance  and  self- 
torture,  "  he  said,  "  and  it's  just  as  it  used  to  be  during  his  life- 
time, before  he  was  too  ill  to  go  in  any  more.  His  twisted  wire 
scourge  is  there,  with  his  blood  on  it,  his  horsehair  shirt,  and  a 
girdle  bristling  with  small,  sharp  spikes.  Will  you  have  a  look, 
Lady  Vale-Avon?  I  can't  go  with  you,  for  the  cell  isn't  big 
enough  for  two,  but  I'll  hold  the  matches  at  the  door.  " 

Lady  Vale-Avon  is  of  the  type  of  woman  who  enjoys  seeing 
such  things  as  these;  and  though  she  would  not  have  tortured 
herself  had  she  lived  in  feudal  days,  I  am  sure  she  would  have 
dined  calmly  over  an  underground  dungeon  where  an  enemy  — 
an  inconvenient  wretch  like  me,  for  instance  —  suffered  the 
pangs  of  starvation. 

She  squeezed  into  the  cell,  descending  a  couple  of  steps, 
remained  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  came  out,  pronouncing 
it  extremely  interesting. 

"Now,  Lady  Monica,  it's  your  turn,"  said  Carmona;  but 
Monica  drew  back.  '  I  hate  seeing  torture-things,"  said  she, 


116  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"and  blood,  even  wicked  old  blood  like  Philip's,  which  I  used 
to  think,  when  I  read  about  him  in  history,  I'd  love  to  shed. 
No,  I  won't  go  in,  thank  you. " 

Pilar  also  refused,  for  if  she  went  she  would  certainly  have  a 
nightmare  and  dream  she  was  walled  up;  thus  there  remained 
only  the  three  men  to  inspect  the  hidden  horrors. 

Carmona  held  his  match-box  to  me,  saying  that  when  we  had 
seen  the  place  he  would  look  in  to  refresh  his  recollections. 
But  Dick  calmly  helped  himself  to  several  fosforos  and  took  first 
turn,  probably  suspecting  something  in  the  way  of  an  oubliette, 
especially  prepared  for  me. 

He  reappeared  presently,  however,  his  suspicions  allayed. 
"  Beastly  hole, "  he  remarked ;  "  almost  bad  enough  for  Philip, 
though  he  did  grill  some  of  my  best  ancestors. " 

I  took  a  couple  of  matches,  lighting  them  on  the  Duke's  box; 
then,  bending  my  head  low,  and  pushing  in  one  shoulder  at  a 
time,  I  squirmed  through  the  aperture.  In  so  doing,  however,  I 
contrived  to  trip  over  Carmona's  foot,  which  must  have  been 
thrust  forward,  staggered  against  the  opposite  wall  of  the 
narrow  cell,  and  lost  both  my  lighted  vestas.  Carmona  exclaimed, 
I  stumbled,  and  almost  simultaneously  the  door  slid  into  place 
with  a  sharp  click. 

.  There  was  not  space  to  fall  at  length.  I  merely  lost  my  balance, 
and  saved  my  head  from  a  bump  by  shielding  it  with  a  raised  arm, 
I  steadied  myself  in  a  second  or  two;  but  I  was  in  black  darkness. 
Outside  I  could  hear  a  confused  murmur  of  voices,  and  would 
have  given  something  to  know  what  Dick  was  saying  at  the 
moment. 

I  was  thinking  that  I  should  not  like  to  be  a  prisoner  in  this 
hole  (only  large  enough  for  the  swing  of  Philip's  scourge)  for 
many  hours  on  end,  when  there  came  an  imperative  tapping. 
"  Holloa ! "  I  answered,  expecting  to  hear  Dick  speak  in  return ; 
but  it  was  Carmona's  voice  which  replied.  Evidently  he  was 
speaking  with  his  mouth  close  to  the  secret  door. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  this  accident, "  said  he  distinctly.  "  When 


A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S  117 

you  stumbled,  you  knocked  my  arm,  and  made  me  touch  the 
spring.  Unfortunately  the  door  closed  with  such  a  crash,  that 
the  spring  seems  out  of  order,  and  I  can't  move  it.  But  if  you'll 
be  patient  a  few  minutes,  I'll  look  for  an  attendant  who  under- 
stands the  thing,  to  bail  you  out  of  gaol.  " 

If  I  had  been  Lieutenant  Cristobal  O'Donnel  I  would  have 
heard  no  more  in  the  rhyming  junction  of  those  words  "  gaol " 
and  "  bail "  than  met  the  ear,  but  being  the  man  I  was  —  the 
man  he  suspected  me  to  be  —  I  did  hear  more;  and  I  believed 
that  he  wished  me  to  catch  a  double  meaning. 

"  Does  he  mean  to  hand  me  over  to  the  police  now,  on  sus- 
picion ? "  I  wondered  in  my  black  cell  —  "  before  Monica's 
eyes  ?  "  But  aloud  I  said,  "  Thanks ;  don't  be  too  long,  or  I  shall 
be  tempted  to  smash  the  door. " 

"You'll  find  that  impossible,"  answered  Carmona.  "Don't 
worry  if  I  seem  to  be  gone  an  age.  There's  only  one  man  on  duty 
to-day  who  knows  the  secret  of  this  room ;  I  asked  for  him  when 
we  came,  but  his  comrade  said  he  was  away  on  leave  till  four 
o'clock.  It  must  be  that  now,  and  I'll  have  him  here  as  soon  as 
possible.  He  will  be  the  more  pleased  to  set  you  free,  as  he's 
an  old  friend  of  yours.  You  remember  little  Rafael  Calmenare  ?  " 

I  was  silent,  seeing,  as  if  by  the  glare  of  lightning,  the  whole 
design  of  the  trap,  and  seeming  to  see  also  the  triumph  which 
must  be  in  Carmona's  eyes.  But  the  pause  had  not  lengthened 
to  a  second,  when  I  heard  Pilar's  voice,  speaking  also  close  to  the 
door. 

"Of  course  you  remember,  Cristobal.  Rafael  Calmenare  of 
the  Duke's  ganaderia.  But  it's  a  long  time  since  he  went  away. " 

"  After  he  was  gored  by  Nero  and  lost  his  health,  through  the 
influence  of  a  friend  at  Court  I  got  him  a  place  here, "  I  heard 
Carmona  say.  Then  raising  his  voice  for  my  ears,  he  went  on, 
"  Poor  Rafael  will  be  pleased  to  see  you  again.  You  must  have 
played  with  him  when  a  boy.  I'm  off  to  find  him  now. " 

Silence  followed  these  last  words.  I  could  picture  the  con- 
sternation of  Dick  and  Pilar.  Neither  could  do  anything  to  help 


118  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

me,  nor  could  I  help  myself.  I  could  but  wait  in  this  suffocating 
black  hole  for  the  moment  when  a  stranger  should  give  me  light, 
and  exclaim,  "  This  is  not  Don  Cristobal ! " 

Almost  I  admired  Carmona  for  his  quick  wit.  After  a  few 
moments  of  rage,  at  sight  of  the  suspected  man  of  Burgos 
Cathedral  on  his  track  in  the  red  motor-car,  the  thought  of  the 
Escurial  and  his  old  servant  must  have  sprung  into  his  mind. 

Had  Calmenare  been  available  at  first,  Carmona  would  have 
been  spared  the  trouble  of  shutting  me  up  in  Philip  the  Bigot's 
torture-chamber;  but  hard  pressed  for  an  excuse  to  keep  us  at 
the  Escurial  till  his  man  came  back,  he  had  put  me  where  I 
could  be  kept  while  needed.  And  now  that  he  was  gone  in  search 
of  Rafael,  we  three  loyal  comrades  could  not  discuss  the  situa- 
tion, because  of  Lady  Vale-Avon's  presence. 

A  brilliant  stroke  of  Carmona's  to  have  me  betrayed  by  an- 
other than  himself,  so  that  Monica  might  not  bear  him  a  grudge ! 
Who  was  this  person  masquerading  as  an  officer  of  the  Spanish 
army  ?  would  be  the  first  question  of  the  police.  And  the  answer 
need  not  be  long  in  coming.  The  Duke  had  reason  to  congratu- 
late himself;  I  had  been  a  fool  to  drop  like  a  fly  into  his  net,  and 
now  that  I  was  in,  I  saw  no  way  out. 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  we  could  open  the  secret  door!"  I  heard 
Monica  exclaim. 

"  I  can't  even  see  exactly  where  it  is  now, "  Pilar  said.  "  Cris- 
tobal?" 

"  Yes, "  I  answered. 

"  Poor  little  Rafael ;  a  good  f ellow,  wasn't  he  ?  " 

"Very  good,"  I  replied.  To  what  end  was  she  working?  I 
wondered.  But  I  was  not  to  be  made  wiser.  Before  she  had  time 
to  finish  the  hint  I  heard  Carmona  speaking. 

"  I've  sent  for  Calmenare,  who  has  returned,  and  will  be  here 
in  a  few  minutes, "  he  called  to  me.  It  was  like  him  to  hurry 
back,  so  that  by  no  possible  means  could  the  three  suspected 
ones  reach  any  understanding. 

The  moments  dragged  on,  and  I  could  have  lashed  myself 


A  SECRET  OF  THE  KING'S  119 

with  Philip's  scourge  in  fury  at  the  rashness  which  might 
involve  the  whole  O'Donnel  family  in  my  disaster.  Never  had  I 
been  able  to  think  less  clearly;  but  perhaps  it  was  the  stifling 
atmosphere  of  the  cell  which  made  me  feel  that  fingers  in  a 
mailed  glove  were  clenched  round  my  temples. 

Outside,  voices  buzzed;  but  those  who  spoke  must  have 
stood  at  a  distance,  for  I  could  catch  no  words.  Then,  at  last, 
there  was  a  new  voice  in  the  room.  Calmenare  had  come. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Don  Rafael  ?  "  Pilar  exclaimed,  as  politely 
as  if  she  had  addressed  an  equal.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again. 
I've  been  waiting  for  you  impatiently.  Only  think,  my  dear 
brother  Cristobal,  whom  you  know  so  well,  is  in  that  dreadful 
place  and  can't  get  out,  because  the  Senor  Duque  shut  him  in  — 
by  mistake  —  and  broke  the  spring. " 

"  I  do  not  find  that  it  is  broken,  senorita, "  answered  the  new 
voice. 

"  I  couldn't  make  it  work, "  Carmona  said  hastily. 

Click !  went  the  spring  under  skilled  fingers.  The  door  sliding 
back  gave  me  a  rush  of  light  and  air  which  set  me  blinking  for  a 
second  or  two;  and  there  I  stood  at  the  stranger's  mercy. 

What  I  saw,  when  my  suddenly  contracted  pupils  expanded, 
was  a  little  man  in  the  palace  livery;  a  pale  little  man  with 
insignificant  features,  and  large,  steady  eyes.  There  was  abso- 
lutely no  expression  in  his  face  as  for  one  brief  instant  our 
glances  met.  Then  — "  God  be  with  you,  Don  Cristobal, " 
said  he.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  been  even  of  this  slight  service.  I 
hope,  senorito,  you  have  not  suffered  from  lack  of  air  ?  " 

"  Very  little, "  said  I.  I  held  out  my  hand.  He  took  it  respect- 
fully. 

"Is  it  long  since  you  saw  each  other?"  asked  Carmona, 
sallow  and  red  by  turns. 

"  About  two  years  only,  Senor  Duque, "  replied  his  ex -servant, 
expressionless  as  before,  and  quietly  respectful  to  all.  "I  could 
not  forget  the  date,  for  the  Senor  Colonel  and  the  senorita,  as 
well  as  the  senorito  himself,  were  always  very  good  to  me.  " 


120  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  Duke  was  silenced.  The  test  invented  by  himself  had 
failed.  Calmenare  accepted  me  as  Cristobal  O'Donnel;  he  was 
obliged  to  accept  me  too  —  at  least  for  the  present. 

"  Shall  we  get  out  of  this  place  ?  "  he  said  to  Lady  Vale-Avon. 

She  swept  her  daughter  with  her;  but  Monica  had  a  backward 
look  for  me,  sparkling  now  with  malice  for  Carmona,  radiant 
with  relief  for  Casa  Triana. 

We  said  good-bye  to  Calmenare  in  the  Duke's  presence;  and 
I  would  have  pressed  a  gold  piece  into  his  hand  for  "opening 
my  prison  door, "  but  he  would  not  have  it.  Afterwards,  while 
we  followed  the  grey  car  on  the  downhill  road  to  Madrid,  Pilar 
told  the  whole  story  with  dramatic  effect  to  the  Cherub. 

"  My  one  hope  was  in  Rafael, "  she  said.  "  I  was  good  to  him, 
you  remember,  when  he  was  ill.  And  he  and  I  had  a  great 
sympathy  over  Corcito,  the  dear  grey  bull.  I  prayed  he'd  never 
forgiven  the  Duke  for  that  crime,  and  that  he'd  still  be  grateful 
to  me.  Well,  I  looked  Rafael  straight  in  the  eyes  when  I  said, 
'My  brother  Cristobal  is  in  that  place,  shut  up  by  the  Duke, 
who  has  broken  the  spring.'  With  all  my  soul  I  willed  him  to 
understand,  and  he  did.  'If  the  senorita  chooses  to  have  a  strange 
gentleman  for  her  brother,  he  is  her  brother  for  me,'  is  what  he 
said  to  himself;  no  more !  But  what  if  he  hadn't  ?  " 

"  That's  where  I  should  have  come  in, "  remarked  Dick. 

"What   would   you   have   done?"    asked   Pilar,   breathless. 

"  I  don't  know, "  said  Dick.  "  I  only  know  I  should  have  done 
it;  and  that  if  I  had,  maybe  Carmona  wouldn't  have  been  feeling 
as  well  as  he  feels  now. " 


XVII 
LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE   NIGHT 

NO  longer  did  the  Duke  desire  our  company.  He  had 
played  his  little  comedy  of  good-fellowship,  and  it  was 
over,  though  it  had  not  ended  according  to  his  hopes. 
The  grey  car  did  its  forty-horse  best  to  outdistance  us 
on  the  way  to  Madrid,  but  the  road  —  so  good  that  perhaps  we 
lost  nothing  in  the  detour  to  the  Escurial  —  distributed  its 
favours  evenly.  We  kept  close  on  the  Lecomte's  flying  heels 
until  one  of  our  four  cylinders  went  to  sleep,  and  Ropes  had  to 
get  down  and  wake  it  up  by  testing  the  ignition. 

Some  fellow-motorists  would  have  turned  to  offer  help,  but 
the  Lecomte  was  ever  a  Levite  where  we  were  concerned;  and 
when  we  were  ready  to  go  on,  the  grey  car  was  not  even  a  speck 
in  the  distance.  Luckily,  however,  there  was  little  or  no  doubt 
where  its  occupants  would  put  up. 

Though  the  Madrid  house  of  the  Carmonas  had  been  burned 
down  ten  years  ago  (since  when  the  Duchess  had  made  her  home 
at  the  old  palace  in  Seville),  there  was  scarcely  a  Continental 
paper  which  had  not  described  the  splendours  of  the  Duke's 
apartment  in  one  of  the  finest  modern  flat-houses  of  Madrid. 
Naturally,  he  would  entertain  his  mother  and  guests  there,  so 
that  it  would  be  difficult  to  slip  away  with  them  unknown  to  us. 

The  thing  I  did  not  know  was,  how  long  he  meant  to  stay  in 
the  capital ;  but  as  he  must  show  Seville  in  Holy  Week,  and  later 
perhaps  other  places  in  the  south  of  Spain,  to  Lady  Vale- A  von 
and  Monica  before  their  return  to  Madrid  for  the  Royal  Wed- 
ding, it  was  almost  certain  that  he  would  go  on  in  a  couple  of  days. 

121 


122  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  O'Donnels  recommended  to  us  the  Hotel  Ingles,  the  best 
Spanish  hotel  in  Madrid,  as  well  as  the  most  amusing,  and  it  was 
with  a  heart  comparatively  light  that  I  looked  forward  to  a  first 
sight  of  my  country's  capital.  How  would  it  compare  with  Paris, 
with  Vienna,  with  London  ?  What  adventures  awaited  me  there  ? 
What  was  to  be  the  next  pass  in  this  queer  duel  with  Cannona  ? 

But  I  need  not  have  searched  for  comparisons.  As  we  rushed 
into  Madrid  without  threading  through  any  suburbs,  —  since 
suburbs  the  city  has  none,  —  I  discovered  that  it  bore  no  resemb- 
lance to  any  other  place. 

We  flashed  from  open  country  to  a  shady  park,  set  about  with 
buvettes  and  beer  gardens ;  ran  through  a  massive  gateway,  and 
were  in  the  heart  of  Madrid.  Electric  trams  whizzed  confusingly 
round  us,  and  far  above  the  hubbub  of  such  traffic  loomed  proud- 
ly a  hill  crowned  with  an  enormous  palace.  There  was  no  need 
to  ask  if  it  were  the  royal  palace,  for  it  was  essentially  Royal,  a 
house  worthy  of  a  king. 

My  father  had  fought  to  put  Don  Carlos  there  —  Don  Carlos, 
far  away  now  in  Venice ;  but  with  all  my  admiration  for  his  brave 
son  Don  Jaime,  my  sympathies  flowed  loyally  towards  the  young 
dweller  on  those  heights. 

We  swept  under  and  round  the  palace  hill,  as  Colonel  O'Don- 
nel  directed.  In  spite  of  his  instructions,  however,  Dick  lost  the 
way  twice,  plunging  into  wrong  turnings;  but  the  second  time 
he  did  this  it  seemed  that  San  Cristobal  —  whose  medal  now 
adorned  our  Gloria  and  shaped  our  destinies  —  must  have  twist- 
ed the  steering-wheel.  There,  before  the  door  of  an  official  build- 
ing guarded  by  sentries,  panted  the  grey  car  of  Cannona;  and 
among  its  passengers  Cannona  alone  was  absent. 

"  That's  the  Ministry  of  War,"  said  the  Cherub,  and  with  a 
quick  thought  I  asked  Dick  to  slow  down.  Taking  advantage  of 
her  son's  late  cordiality,  I  spoke  to  the  Duchess. 

"  We  thought  we  had  lost  you,"  said  I  airily.  "  I  hope  nothing's 
wrong,  that  you  stop  here  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  thank  you,"  coldly  replied  the  Duchess. 


LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  123 

But  Monica  spoke  up  bravely.  "  The  Duke  didn't  tell  us  why 
he  wanted  to  go  in.  He  only  said  he  wouldn't  keep  us  many  min- 
utes. Senorila  O'Donnel,  shall  you  be  in  Madrid  long  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days,"  said  Pilar.  "  And  you  ?  " 

"  We  shall  be  here  again  at  the  time  of  the  wedding,"  Monica 
answered  quickly ;  "  so  I  believe  the  Duke  and  Duchess  will  —  " 

"  It  is  undecided,"  Lady  Vale-Avon  cut  in  before  the  girl  could 
make  us  a  present  of  Carmona's  plans.  "  We  may  take  some  ex- 
cursions. As  there's  a  fine  road  to  Barcelona,  we  may  go  there 
and  to  Montserrat;  and  the  Duke  has  said  something  about  Bil- 
bao—" 

"But,  Mother,  surely  we're  going  to  Seville  for  Holy  Week!" 
cried  Monica, 

"There's  no  reason  why  we  should  arrive  before  Maundy 
Thursday,"  replied  Lady  Vale-Avon,  hiding  annoyance.  "But 
isn't  that  the  Duke  coming  out  ?  I  hope  he  won't  be  long.  It's 
windy  here,  and  you  have  a  cold  coming  on,  my  dear  Duchess." 

We  were  dismissed;  and  raising  our  hats  again  we  drove  on, 
Pilar  waving  a  small,  encouraging  hand  to  Monica.  "  They  won't 
do  any  of  those  things,"  said  the  Spanish  girl.  "  Something  tells 
me  they  mean  to  start  for  Seville  as  soon  as  they  can." 

"  Something  tells  me  so  too,"  said  I.  "  And  something  tells  me 
that  Carmona's  errand  at  the  Ministry  of  War  is  to  find  out 
whether  Lieutenant  Cristobal  O'Donnel  y  Alvarez  is  really  away 
from  Burgos  on  leave." 

"  That's  what  I  was  thinking,"  murmured  the  Cherub.  "  But 
the  thought  will  not  bring  a  grey  hair.  Cristobal  is  on  leave;  and 
he  told  his  brother  officers  that  he  expected  to  go  with  his  family 
to  Seville.  It  was  at  the  last  minute  that  his  plans  were  changed. 
No  one  was  taken  into  his  confidence;  and  it  will  be  very  negli- 
gent of  San  Cristobal  to  let  him  meet  in  Biarritz  any  common 
acquaintance  of  his  and  Carmona's." 

"  I'm  putting  my  faith  in  San  Cristobal,"  said  I.  **  But  as  he  has 
a  good  deal  to  attend  to,  the  less  I  show  myself  in  Madrid,  where 
my  adopted  brother  must  be  known,  the  better." 


124  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

**  He  hasn't  been  as  often  here  as  Pilar  and  I,"  said  the  Cherub, 
"so  he  knows  few  people.  Still,  Cristobal's  uniform  should  now 
be  put  away,  and  Cristobal  should  wear  civilian  clothes." 

"He  certainly  will,"  I  answered,  laughing.  And  Colonel 
O'Donnel  gave  himself  up  to  directing  Dick  which  way  to  go,  as 
we  were  in  the  most  crowded  centre  now,  close  to  the  Puerta  del 
Sol. 

This  big,  open  space,  shaped  like  a  parallelogram,  walled  by 
hotels,  Government  buildings,  and  shops,  struck  me  as  a  Spanish 
combination  of  Piccadilly  Circus  and  the  Mansion  House, 
thrown  into  one.  Ten  busy  streets  poured  their  traffic  into  the 
place;  intricate  lines  of  tramways  converged  there.  The  pave- 
ments were  crowded  with  loungers  who  had  the  air  of  never  do- 
ing anything  but  lounge,  and  wait  for  excitements.  There  was 
much  coming  and  going  of  leisurely  pedestrians,  talking  and 
laughing,  all  classes  mingling  together;  men  in  silk  hats  on  the 
way  to  their  clubs  chatting  with  men  in  capas  and  grey  sombre- 
ros, who  belonged  to  very  different  clubs;  smart  officers  in  uni- 
form shoulder  to  shoulder  with  bull-fighters  whose  little  twisted 
pigtails  of  black  hair  appeared  under  their  tilted  hats;  ragged 
but  handsome  beggars  thinking  themselves  as  good,  if  not  as 
fortunate,  as  their  brothers  in  broadcloth;  merry  boys  shouting 
the  evening  papers,  black-eyed  women  and  men  selling  cheap 
but  colourful  jewelry,  post-cards,  toys,  and  marvellous  sweets. 
It  was  as  gay  a  scene  as  could  be  found  in  any  capital,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  this  absolute  democracy  was  after  all  the 
true  note  of  modern  Spain.  Whatever  else  we  may  be,  we  never 
have  been,  never  will  be  a  nation  of  snobs,  we  Spaniards  whose 
favourite  saint  is  the  peasant  Isidro. 

Steering  cautiously  through  the  throng  which  scarcely  troubled 
itself  to  move  before  us,  we  took  one  of  the  main  arteries  leading 
out  from  the  Puerta  del  Sol  (where  no  sign  of  a  gate  was  to  be 
seen),  and  turned  into  the  deep  blue  shadows  of  the  Calle  Eche- 
garay  to  our  hotel. 

Already  I  had  discovered  that  it  is  not  the  habit  of  Spanish 


LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  125 

landlords  to  descend  from  the  important  first  floor  to  the  un- 
important ground  floor  and  welcome  their  guests.  They  are  glad 
to  have  you  come  if  you  choose,  but  they  do  not  care  if  you  stop 
away,  for  there  are  plenty  of  others ;  and  whether  you  are  cousin 
to  the  King  of  England  or  an  American  millionaire,  or  a  Spanish 
commercial  traveller,  very  timid  and  just  starting  in  business, 
you  will  be  given  the  same  reception,  unless  you  put  on  "  proud 
airs,"  when  you  will  be  shown  that  you  had  better  go  elsewhere. 
But  with  an  old  friend,  all  is  different;  everyone  welcomed  the 
Cherub  and  the  senorita;  for  their  sakes  everyone  welcomed  Dick 
and  me.  I  was  vaguely  introduced  as  a  relative  —  no  name  given ; 
no  name,  in  the  flurry  of  greeting,  asked;  for  Spain  is  not  like 
France  or  Germany,  where  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  write  down 
all  particulars  about  yourself  on  a  piece  of  paper. 

Ropes  drove  the  car  off  to  a  garage,  and  we  were  shown  to 
rooms  which  made  us  realize  that  we  had  left  the  provinces  be- 
hind and  come  into  the  capital. 

"  Thank  goodness  I  shall  have  a  pillow  to  sleep  on  to-night,'* 
said  Dick,  "instead  of  doing  the  carved-knight-on-a-marble- 
tomb  act.  I  looked  particularly  at  the  two  neat,  rounded  blocks 
those  chaps  in  Burgos  Cathedral  had  to  rest  their  heads  on,  and 
the  alleged  pillows  on  my  bed  were  an  exact  copy,  hardness  and 
all." 

"  I  like  them  hard,"  said  I. 

"That's  right!  Stand  up  for  Spanish  institutions." 

"There's  one  anyhow  I  don't  think  you'd  run  down,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"Which  one?" 

"  Spanish  girls." 

We  dined  in  great  spirits  that  evening,  in  the  big  scarlet  and 
gold  restaurant;  and  in  rich,  red  Marques  de  Riscal  Dick  drank 
confusion  to  the  Duque  de  Carmona.  The  Cherub  had  told  us 
where  Carmona's  flat  was  situated,  saying  that  his  car  would 
perhaps  be  kept  under  the  same  roof  with  his  carriage  and  the 
state  coach. 


126  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  company  was  interesting  to  watch.  Leoncavallo  had  as  a 
guest  the  famous  ex-bull-fighter  Mazzantini ;  a  Russian  prince 
entertained  several  beauties  of  the  Opera;  and  there  were  two 
or  three  politicians  greatly  in  the  public  eye.  We  were  hungry; 
the  dinner  was  good;  there  was  much  to  talk  over;  and  all  seemed 
to  be  going  well. 

But  about  half-past  ten,  when  Pilar  had  gone,  and  the  Cherub 
was  having  a  "yarn  "  and  a  cigar  in  the  sitting-room  of  our  suite, 
Ropes  appeared,  looking  serious. 

"  Something  bad  has  happened,  sir;  and  I  blame  myself,"  said 
he. 

"  Something  wrong  with  the  car,"  I  asked  quickly. 

"  Something  out  of  the  car,  sir,"  he  amended.  "  The  main  shaft 
of  the  change-speed  gear." 

"  Impossible ! "  said  I.  "  A  car  can't  go  along  dropping  her 
gearing,  as  a  woman  drops  her  purse  !  " 

"No,  sir.  But  she  can,  so  to  speak,  have  her  pocket  picked. 
After  all  that's  come  and  gone,  I  ought  to  have  kept  my  eyes 
open." 

"  Out  with  it,  my  good  chap,"  said  I; "  don't  try  to  break  it  to 
us." 

"  It's  the  car  that's  broken  into,  sir.  I  found  the  garage  all  right, 
left  her  safe  and  sound,  came  back  here,  but  after  dinner  thought 
I'd  go  round  again  to  tinker  a  bit  at  the  car  in  case  of  an  early 
start  to-morrow.  When  I  got  to  the  place  there  were  three  new 
fellows  on  duty,  and  they  seemed  astonished  when  they  saw  I 
intended  to  work  on  the  Gloria.  The  chauffeur  who  looked  after 
that  car  had  been  in,  they  said;  and  you  can  believe,  sir,  I  pricked 
up  my  ears.  He'd  been  working  like  a  demon,  said  they,  opening 
the  gear-box  and  dismounting  the  main  shaft.  Then  he  went  off 
with  it  over  his  shoulder,  after  telling  the  foreman  his  master 
wouldn't  believe  the  pinions  were  so  worn  there  ought  to  be  a 
new  set,  and  he  was  going  to  show  it  to  him.  They  were  surprised, 
I  can  tell  you,  sir,  when  I  said  we'd  been  robbed,  and  that  the 
thief  wasn't  your  chauffeur.  But  just  then  one  of  the  old  lot  came 


LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  127 

in,  and  bore  witness  that  I  was  the  right  man.  It  did  seem  like  a 
bad  dream,  but  a  peep  at  the  gear-box  showed  me  it  was  reaJ 
enough.  I  was  a  fool  not  to  give  somebody  warning,  or  pay  a 
man  to  stay  by  the  car." 

"I  can't  see  that  you  had  reason  to  be  suspicious,"  said  I, 
"  although  it's  a  rascally  outrage,  and  makes  me  feel  murderous. 
Did  they  describe  the  supposed  chauffeur  ?  " 

"They  did  sir;  and  I  expected  to  recognize  the  description. 
But  I  didn't;  they're  too  smart  for  that." 

"  You  think  we  know  him  ?  " 

"  Sure  of  it,  sir.  Nothing  easier  than  a  bit  of  disguise." 

"  It  might  be  a  common  motor-car  thief,  who  wanted  a  main 
shaft  for  a  Gloria  car." 

"And  then  again,  sir,  it  mightn't." 

"  Anyhow,"  said  I,  "  the  thing  to  do  would  be  to  apply  to  the 
police,  have  the  ruffian  run  to  earth  and  arrested,  no  matter  what 
his  position.  The  worst  of  it  is,  though,  I'm  not  anxious  to  have 
the  eye  of  the  Spanish  police  turned  upon  me,  and  there  are  those 
who  count  on  that  fact." 

"  Wouldn't  I  like  to  smash  their  heads  for  this !  Wouldn't  I 
like  to  smash  their  car!"  growled  Dick. 

"  No.  That  would  be  playing  it  too  low  down,"  said  I. 

Ropes  coloured  under  his  sunburnt  skin,  and  began  to  search 
for  non-existent  dust  on  the  leather  cap  in  his  hand. 

"  You're  right,  sir,  no  doubt,"  he  said,  in  a  meek  voice. 

I  was  half  sorry  that  he,  or  anyone,  should  agree  with  me. 
It  seemed  somehow  as  if  my  chauffeur  were  taking  this  mons- 
trous thing  too  coolly.  "  Well,  the  fact  remains  that  we're  done," 
I  said,  with  suppressed  fury.  "  If  the  Duke  of  Carmona  has  had  a 
hand  in  this  act,  it's  a  sign  that  he  means  to  get  off  while  we're 
held  up  waiting  for  a  new  shaft  and  pinions  to  arrive  —  probably 
all  the  way  from  Paris.  He  can  go  to-morrow  — " 

"Beg  pardon,  sir;  he  can't,  not  in  his  own  car,"  said  Ropes. 
"  If  we  can't  leave,  no  more  can't  he." 

"  Why,  what  have  you  done  ?  "  I  tried  to  speak  sternly. 


128  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"Oh,  next  to  nothing,  sir.  A  bit  of  a  touch  on  his  magneto 
ignition,  and  a  tickling  of  his  coil,  just  enough  to  keep  him  in 
hospital  till  he's  doctored  up." 

Rope's  expression  was  so  childlike  that  Dick  and  I  burst  out 
laughing.  "  You  demon ! "  I  said.  "  How  did  you  get  at  the  car  ?  " 

"  Much  the  same  as  they  did  at  ours,  though  I  don't  pretend 
to  be  as  clever  as  some.  I  said  to  myself,  as  this  car  of  the  Duke's 
is  new,  and  he  doesn't  drive  it  himself,  chances  are  he's  never 
had  a  motor  before,  and  wouldn't  have  a  garage  in  Madrid, 
though  he  does  live  here  part  of  the  year  and  must  have  fine 
stables.  I  inquired  what  was  the  best  garage  besides  ours,  and 
strolled  round,  thinking  the  chauffeur  would  have  gone  straight  to 
the  Duke  with  his  news.  I  found  the  place,  and  all  the  chaps  were 
standing  outside  open  doors,  watching  a  couple  of  dogs  having  a 
fight.  I  walked  in,  without  a  word  to  anyone,  though  I'd  have 
said  I  came  from  the  Duke  if  I'd  had  to.  There  was  the  car; 
and  before  one  of  those  blessed  dogs  had  chewed  the  other's  nose 
off,  I'd  polished  up  my  little  job.  Then  I  came  to  you,  feeling  a 
bit  better  than  a  few  minutes  before." 

"You  ought  to  be  crushed  with  remorse,"  said  I;  but  I'm 
afraid  I  grinned;  and  Dick  remarked  that  if  he  were  King  of 
England  he'd  give  Ropes  a  knighthood. 

"  Heaven  knows  what  the  next  move  will  be,"  I  commented, 
when  the  avenger  had  gone,  not  too  stricken  in  spirit.  "  It  begins 
to  look  as  though  the  enemy  would  stick  at  little,  and  we  can't 
go  on  giving  tit  for  tat." 

"  He  won't  take  open  action  against  you  for  the  present,"  said 
the  Cherub,  "as  he  isn't  sure  you  aren't  Cristobal  O'Donnel; 
and  you're  warned  if  he  tries  to  strike  in  the  dark.  He's  probably 
found  out  through  the  Ministry  of  War  that  Cristobal's  on  leave, 
so  to  rid  himself  of  your  company  he's  resorted  to  the  only  means 
which  occurred  to  him." 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  that  he  had  no  surer  means,"  I  said. 

"  It's  the  fashion  in  Spain,  if  a  friend  wants  a  thing,  to  tell  him 
it  is  his,"  replied  Colonel  O'Donnel.  "You  wanted  me  for  a 


LIKE  A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  129 

father,  Pilar  for  a  sister.  I  said, '  We  are  yours.'  There's  not  much 
to  be  thankful  for.  I  would  do  ten  times  more  for  your  father's 
son;  and  my  confessor's  a  sympathetic  man.  Besides,  to  tell  you 
a  secret  of  mine  which  even  Pilar  doesn't  know,  though  she  has 
most  others  at  her  finger-end,  your  mother  was  my  first  love.  I 
adored  her !  You  have  her  eyes ! " 

Whereupon  I  shook  hands  with  the  Cherub. 


XVIII 
THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  FILAR 

WEN  Ropes  had  gone  to  send  a  telegram  to 
Daris,  Dick  and  I  talked  the  matter  over  from  so 
nany  points  of  view,  that  Colonel  O'Donnel  ap- 
parently went  to  sleep.  It  was  only  when  I  burst 
into  vituperation  against  Carmona,  that  the  excellent  man 
suddenly  showed  signs  of  life. 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  said  he,  and  I  found  myself  cheering  up 
at  the  statement;  for  I  had  noticed  that,  though  the  Cherub  often 
had  the  air  of  being  silent  through  laziness;  that  from  his  mel- 
lifluous Andaluz  he  discarded  all  possible  consonants  as  he  would 
discard  the  bones  of  fish;  yet,  with  his  murmurings,  invariably 
rolled  from  his  tongue  some  jewel  of  good  sense. 

"  We  have  a  friend  near  Madrid,"  said  he,  "  who  has  an  auto- 
mobile. I  know  little  about  such  things;  but  when  I  heard  that 
you  had  a  twenty-four  horse-power  Gloria,  I  thought,  '  It  is  the 
same  as  the  Conde  de  Roldan's.'  It  will  be  days  before  your  new 
parts  can  come  from  Paris,  even  if  you  send  Ropes;  and  there 
are  few  automobiles  on  sale  here,  if  any.  It's  a  hundred  chances 
to  one  you  could  get  parts  to  fit  your  car  in  that  way.  But  if  Don 
Cipriano's  car  is  what  I  think,  he  will  give  you  what  you  want. 
When  the  new  parts  arrive,  they  will  be  for  him." 

"Colonel  O'Donnel,"  said  Dick,  "you  and  your  family  are 
bricks!" 

"  That's  true,"  said  I ;  "  but  if  you  could  persuade  your  friend 
to  such  an  act  of  generosity,  I  couldn't  accept.  I  —  " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  good  man,  with  cherubic  slyness,  "  he  would 

130 


THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  PILAR  131 

give  his  left  hand  for  such  a  chance  to  please  us!  Perhaps  you 
haven't  noticed  that  my  nina  is  rather  attractive ;  but  it  has  not 
escaped  the  observation  of  Don  Cipriano." 

So  the  wind  blew  from  that  quarter!  I  threw  a  glance  at  Dick, 
and  saw  on  his  face  the  same  expression  of  disconcerted  amour 
propre  I  had  once  seen  when  a  bullet  went  whistling  by  his  nose. 
But  he  said  nothing  about  either  missile ;  and  now  it  was  left  for 
me  to  justify  our  appreciation  of  the  senorita. 

Ordinarily,  if  there  is  one  thing  which  the  Cherub  loves,  it  is  to 
dawdle,  but  now  he  rose  without  a  sigh  and  remarked  that  there 
was  no  time  to  waste.  He  must  fetch  Pilar. 

"  She  will  have  gone  to  bed,"  I  objected. 

The  Cherub  smiled.  Pilar  go  to  bed  at  half-past  ten  on  her 
first  night  in  Madrid  after  months  of  absence?  Not  she.  Her 
father  was  willing  to  bet  that  she  was  at  her  window  looking  down 
upon  the  street,  and  wishing  she  had  been  born  a  man  that  she 
might  be  in  it.  "Night  is  the  time  for  amusement  in  Madrid,'* 
said  he.  "  One  can  lie  in  bed  till  afternoon  without  missing  any- 
thing; but  at  night — that  is  the  time  to  be  alive  here!  And 
though  our  home  is  in  the  southern  country,  when  we  are  in 
Madrid  my  Pilar  and  I,  we  are  true  Madrilenos.  Had  she  and  I 
been  alone,  she  would  have  made  me  take  her  to  the  theatre  or 
circus.  We  should  not  have  got  home  till  one :  and  then  I  should 
have  had  to  give  her  supper.  Oh,  she  will  be  enchanted  when  I 
call  her  back  to  life ! " 

With  that  he  trotted  off,  and  before  it  seemed  that  he  could 
have  explained  anything,  he  had  brought  Pilar  to  us  in  triumph, 
her  hat  on  her  head,  dimples  in  her  cheeks,  and  stars  in  her  eyes. 
"  I'm  ready!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Ready  ?  "  I  echoed.  "  For  what  ?  " 

"Why  to  drive  with  you  all  to  Don  Cipriano's!  What  else? 
We  mustn't  lose  a  minute,  or  our  bad  fairy  will  have  time  to  work 
some  other  evil  charm  before  we've  remedied  the  first.  Oh,  I  may 
be  only  a  girl,  and  not  of  importance ;  but  Don  Cipriano  thinks  me 
important,  and  I  shall  have  to  be  there  to  make  smiles  at  him. 


132  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

He  has  a  Gloria,  and  it  is  twenty-four  horse-power.  Father  sent 
to  order  a  carriage  while  I  put  on  my  hat  and  coat.  Don  Cipri- 
ano's  place  is  only  half  an  hour  out  of  Madrid,  even  with  a  '  si- 
mon.'  He  breeds  horses,  and  oh,  such  dogs !  Come  along  —  come 
along!" 

"  At  this  time  of  night  ?  "  said  Dick.  "  He'll  think  we're  mad ! " 

"  It's  always  early  till  to-morrow  morning  in  Madrid,"  laughed 
Pilar.  "  Ah,  how  nice  to  have  an  excitement ! " 

"  He  won't  be  at  home,"  said  Dick. 

"  Yes,  he  will.  San  Cristobal  will  keep  him  there." 

Before  we  knew  what  we  were  doing,  this  small  Spanish  whirl- 
wind had  swept  us  downstairs  in  her  train,  into  the  vehicle  which 
had  actually  arrived,  and  out  into  the  midst  of  a  night-scene  as 
lively  as  a  fair.  Many  shops  were  open  and  brilliantly  illuminated. 
Cafe  windows  blazed  like  diamonds ;  half  the  population  of  Mad- 
rid was  in  the  streets,  and  a  stranger  might  have  thought  that 
something  unusual  had  happened;  but  Pilar  assured  us  it  was 
"always  like  that."  "You  can  live  in  the  street  if  you  like,  in 
Madrid,"  said  she,  "  and  I  should  think  lots  of  quite  charming 
people  do.  There  are  sweets  and  fruit  when  you're  hungry,  and 
water  and  wine  and  fresh  milk  of  goats  when  you're  thirsty,  cool 
doorways  or  nice  hot  pavements  to  sleep  on  when  you're  tired, 
with  lettuce  leaves  or  a  cabbage  for  a  pillow,  all  at  a  cost  of  a 
penny  or  two  a  day;  and  if  you're  clever  somebody  passing  by 
will  give  you  that  penny.  So,  rich  or  poor,  with  a  palace  or  no 
home,  you  can  be  happy  in  Madrid." 

"  I  wonder  how  you'd  like  New  York  ?  "  muttered  Dick. 

'*  That  depends  on  the  person  I  lived  with ! "  said  Pilar. 

Soon  we  had  left  the  gold  and  crimson  glow  of  the  streets,  and 
were  out  in  the  blue  night.  Over  the  Puente  de  Toledo  we  passed, 
and  on  along  a  broad  white  road. 

Pilar  had  said  that  we  would  reach  our  destination  in  half  an 
hour;  but  her  enthusiasm  ran  faster  than  our  horses;  and  it  was 
nearly  midnight  when  we  stopped  in  front  of  a  tall  archway  that 
glimmered  in  the  dark.  A  clanging  bell  had  to  be  pulled,  and  was 


THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  PILAR  133 

echoed  by  a  musical  baying  of  many  dogs.  "  The  darlings ! "  ex- 
claimed Pilar.  "  I  know  their  voices.  It's  Melampo,  and  Cubillon, 
and  Lubina,  the  dearest  pets  of  all;  named  after  the  dogs  who 
went  with  the  shepherds  to  see  the  Christ-child  in  His  cradle  — 
you  remember  —  so  they  can  never  go  mad." 

By  this  time  the  gate  was  open,  and  a  wave  of  beautiful  grey- 
hounds surged  round  us,  although  called  imperatively  back  by  a 
man  who  looked  like  a  cross  between  a  porter  and  a  gamekeeper. 
Then  came  a  cordial  burst  of  recognition  between  the  Cherub, 
Pilar,  and  the  servant.  We  drove  into  a  courtyard,  and  before 
we  could  descend  from  our  carriage  the  master  of  the  house  had 
appeared  at  a  lighted  doorway,  tall,  brown,  ruddy,  picturesque 
in  Spanish  riding  breeches  and  short  coat;  a  handsome  man  of 
thirty-five,  perhaps,  whose  face  lit  from  surprise  to  rapture  at 
sight  of  Pilar.  Dick  and  I  came  in  for  a  welcome  too,  though  I 
could  see  that  the  Conde  de  Roldan  was  not  easy  in  his  mind 
about  these  young  men  who  seemed  on  terms  of  intimacy  with 
his  friends. 

From  the  courtyard  we  passed  through  a  doorway  into  a  patio, 
and  from  the  patio  into  a  nondescript  room  which  could  have  be- 
longed to  no  one  but  a  bachelor  and  a  sportsman.  There  was, 
however,  a  mother,  and  the  poor  lady  would  have  been  torn  from 
her  bed  to  greet  the  welcome  ones,  had  not  the  father  and  daugh- 
ter protested.  To-morrow,  if  all  went  well,  they  would  come  again, 
and  see  dear  Dona  Rosita;  but  now,  let  her  sleep.  We  were  here 
on  business. 

"  May  I  explain  you  ?  "  Pilar  appealed  to  me.  "  Don  Cipriano 
is  safe.  And  I  want  him  to  be  interested." 

Poor  Don  Cipriano!  He  had  visibly  a  bad  half  moment,  trem- 
bling lest  we  had  rushed  out  to  announce  my  engagement  to  the 
adorable  Pilarcita;  but  it  was  good  to  see  the  light  come  back  to 
his  eyes  when  he  heard  that  I  —  blind  worm  —  had  fallen  in  love 
with  another  girl.  Clever  Pilarcita  made  this  fact  clear,  so  that 
Don  Cipriano's  jealous  heart  might  warm  to  me  before  he  knew 
what  thing  was  wanted.  Dick  became  tolerable  also,  as  a  friend 


134  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

following  in  the  train  of  my  adventures ;  and  soon  the  poor  fellow 
was  ready  to  put  not  only  the  gearing  of  his  motor-car,  but  his 
house  and  everything  in  it,  at  our  service. 

He  blessed  his  patron  saint  for  bringing  us  to  his  door,  and 
for  permitting  him  to  have  ridden  home  from  a  distant  farm  in 
time  to  greet  us ;  he  roundly  cursed  the  Duke  of  Carmona,  con- 
signing him  to  Purgatory  for  a  longer  period  than  usual;  and 
when  everyone  of  us  (except  Dick)  was  in  the  best  of  humours  with 
everybody  else,  we  paid  a  visit  to  his  car. 

She  might,  in  all  but  colour,  have  been  twin-sister  to  mine. 
There  seemed  reason  to  hope  that  the  pinions  of  this  Gloria 
would  fit  the  other  Gloria,  and  that  no  time  might  be  lost  in 
making  the  experiment,the  Conde  de  Roldan  volunteered  to  spin 
us  into  Madrid,  letting  our  "  simon  "  go  back  empty.  If  we  de- 
ceived ourselves,  rather  than  I  should  be  delayed  (said  he),  his 
car  was  mine  to  take  where  I  would,  and  the  Cherub  stepped  on 
my  foot  to  check  a  refusal. 

There  was  a  chauffeur  in  this  interesting  household,  but  he 
was  several  other  things  as  well,  and  was  a  better  dog-doctor  than 
the  vet.  At  that  moment  he  was  assisting  at  an  addition  to  the 
family  of  Lubina's  daughter;  but  in  any  case,  Don  Cipriano, 
protested,  he  would  have  allowed  no  one  to  drive  us  save  himself. 

We  raced  to  Madrid  in  a  fourth  of  the  time  we  had  taken  in 
coming;  and  two  hours  after  the  moment  when  we  had  news  of 
the  disaster,  we  arrived  at  the  garage  of  my  injured  Gloria. 

A  somnolent  night-porter  (one  of  the  few  persons  in  Madrid 
who  appeared  to  use  the  night  for  sleep)  let  us  in;  and  at  the 
sound  of  our  entrance  the  figure  of  a  man  sprang  from  the  cush- 
ions of  my  car.  Pilar  gave  a  cry,  which  changed  to  a  laugh  as  she 
saw  that  it  was  Ropes. 

"San  Cristobal  failed  you  for  a  few  minutes  this  evening, 
didn't  he  ?  But  he's  going  to  make  up  for  it  now,"  she  said.  "  And 
I'm  going  to  see  him  do  it,  if  it  takes  all  night." 

In  vain  did  the  Cherub  try  to  persuade  her  that  it  would  be 
well  to  let  him  escort  her  home,  as  the  experiment  would  be  a 


THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  PILAR  135 

long  affair.  Nobody  seconded  his  efforts,  and,  if  they  had,  ten 
chances  against  one  that  Pilarcita  would  have  listened.  Never, 
in  all  her  life,  said  she,  had  she  known  anything  like  the  excite- 
ments of  the  last  few  days,  and  it  was  too  probable  that  she  never 
would  again. 

With  this,  she  climbed  into  her  old  place  in  my  Gloria's 
tonneau,  her  bright  eyes  bewitching  in  the  uncertain  yellow  light; 
and  enchanted  with  the  prospect  of  retaining  her  society,  Don 
Cipriano  proposed  a  feast.  He  would  not  listen  to  discussions, 
but  rushed  the  bewildered  watchman  off  to  a  neighbouring  res- 
taurant, whence  a  waiter  appeared  with  the  speed  of  magic. 
Supper  was  ordered;  chicken,  salad,  champagne,  all  that  could 
be  found  of  the  best ;  and  dulces  for  the  senorita. 

While  Ropes  and  I  worked  as  if  for  a  wager,  a  swarm  of  amus- 
ed waiters  came  buzzing  about  the  garage,  bringing  chairs,  a 
table,  clattering  dishes,  clinking  knives  and  forks,  and  silver  pails 
wherein  tinkled  ice  embedding  gold-labelled  bottles. 

Ropes  is  unrivalled  as  a  mechanic,  and  I  am  not  unhandy  with 
tools,  so  that  between  us,  under  the  inspiration  of  Pilar's  bright 
eyes  and  sayings,  we  had  the  pinions  out  of  Don  Cipriano's  car 
by  the  time  the  champagne  was  cold.  Then,  while  corks  were 
popping,  the  great  experiment  was  tried.  "  A  fit !  a  fit ! "  I  exclaim- 
ed, and  joyously  we  drank  to  the  health  of  the  two  Glorias. 

Such  tips  as  they  got  that  night,  those  waiters  and  that  watch- 
man could  never  have  seen.  No  doubt  they  thought  us  mad,  and 
perhaps  we  were;  but  it  was  partly  the  fault  of  San  Cristobal. 


XIX 
A  PARCEL  FOR  LIEUTENANT  O'DONNEL 

NEVER  was  such  a  man  as  Don  Cipriano,  Conde  de 
Roldan.  Not  content  with  lending  me  his  wings  that 
I  might  fly  while  he  was  left  to  crawl,  he  proposed  to 
heap  other  favours  upon  the  friend  of  his  friends. 

He  offered  me  an  asylum  at  his  place  for  my  rejuvenated  car, 
lest  the  enemy  in  reconnoitring  should  learn  our  secret  before  the 
time;  and,  better  still,  he  volunteered  to  visit  the  camp  of  that 
enemy,  and  discover  his  plans. 

Being  an  acquaintance  of  the  lady  whom  Carmona  had  jilted, 
he  was  no  admirer  of  the  Duke's.  Nevertheless,  he  was  a  member 
of  a  club  which  Carmona  frequented  when  in  Madrid,  and  he 
thought  that  the  Duke  would  look  in  next  day.  Even  if  he  should 
decide  to  proceed  by  rail,  after  discovering  how  "  two  can  play  at 
the  same  game,"  such  a  change  of  plan  would  mean  delay;  there- 
fore Carmona  and  his  party  would  spend  at  least  one  day  in 
Madrid.  Don  Cipriano  offered  to  go  early  to  the  club,  and  not  to 
leave  until  he  had  seen  the  Duke.  The  moment  he  had  any  news 
he  would  bring  it  to  us. 

I  accepted  my  new  friend's  invitation  to  house  the  Gloria,  as 
his  place  was  so  close  to  town  that  Ropes  or  I  could  spin  her  back 
at  short  notice;  and  at  dawn,  when  merry  Madrid  was  thinking 
of  bed,  my  car  towed  out  his  dismantled  one.  Pilar  and  her  father 
had  gone  home  to  dream  their  good  deeds  over;  Dick,  when  he 
heard  that  we  were  to  drive  behind  the  Conde's  horses,  developed 
a  headache,  and  Ropes  and  I  had  to  carry  the  business  through 
ourselves. 

136 


A  PARCEL  FOR  LIEUTENANT  O'DONNEL      137 

We  bathed  and  breakfasted  in  the  country,  and  drove  back  to 
Madrid  while  the  gay  world  slept.  He  would  now,  Don  Cipriano 
announced,  spend  the  day  in  the  city,  on  watch-dog  duty;  but  as 
he  would  have  no  news  until  afternoon,  I  might  visit  the  picture 
galleries  if  I  liked.  "  They  will  make  you  feel  proud  of  your  coun- 
try," he  said;  and  so  they  would,  no  doubt.  But  I  resolved  to 
sacrifice  them  in  the  fear  that,  after  all,  Carmona  might  evade 
me  if  I  gave  him  so  good  a  chance. 

Never  had  I  seen  Dick  so  gloomy  as  when  I  returned  to  him, 
and  the  black  dog  was  not  chased  away  by  my  praises  of  Don 
Cipriano.  He  cheered  up,  however,  at  the  prospect  of  sightseeing 
with  the  Cherub  and  Pilar;  the  Cherub  martyred;  Pilar  joyous  in 
the  thought  of  showing  off  the  Murillos  and  Velasquez  which  she 
adored. 

They  did  the  Armeria  and  picture  galleries  all  the  morning, 
until  they  were  drooping  with  fatigue;  waggled  back  in  a  dilapi- 
dated cab,  clamouring  for  their  lunch  and  my  tidings;  departed 
again  in  the  afternoon  to  finish  what  they  had  left  undone. 

Meanwhile  I  had  heard  nothing;  and  the  day,  spent  in  waiting 
for  Don  Cipriano  or  for  some  bit  of  gossip  picked  up  by  Ropes, 
was  long. 

But  five  o'clock  and  Don  Cipriano  came  together.  Carmona 
had  been  to  the  club.  The  Conde  de  Roldan  had  not  spoken  to 
him,  but  the  Duke  had  talked  to  another  man,  a  motoring  friend 
of  the  King's.  Perhaps,  with  few  others,  would  the  Duke  have 
been  so  expansive.  He  had  said,  "  I'm  only  in  Madrid  for  the  day. 
Should  have  been  off  this  morning,  with  my  mother  and  two 
ladies  who  are  going  to  visit  her  in  Seville,  but  had  an  accident  to 
my  automobile,  which  has  made  me  a  lot  of  bother.  I  hope  to 
get  away,  though,  sometime  to-morrow."  Then  he  had  asked 
after  the  health  of  a  certain  actress,  and  the  subject  had  been 
definitely  changed. 

This  was  a  triumph.  I  heartily  thanked  Don  Ciprirno,  all  the 
while  feeling  a  guilty  thinj* ;  for  if  I  were  loyal  to  Dick  and  wished 
him  luck,  I  must  be  disloyal  and  wish  defeat  for  my  benefactor. 


138  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

We  spoke  of  the  road,  which  he  knew,  and  said  was  not  too 
bad ;  and  about  brigands,  who  were  making  themselves  talked  of 
just  then.  "You'd  better  buy  arms,  if  you  haven't  them,"  said 
Don  Cipriano;  "  but  there's  not  much  danger  on  this  side  Seville." 

He  had  brought  a  road-map;  and  we  were  examining  it,  in  the 
reading-room  of  the  hotel,  wondering  whether  Carmona  would 
take  the  direct  way  through  Manzanares,  Valdepenas,  and  Cor- 
doba, or  another  which  Don  Cipriano  considered  better,  though 
longer,  by  Talavera  de  la  Reina,  Trujillo,  and  Zafra,  when  the 
concierge  came  to  say  a  messenger  with  a  parcel  wished  to  see 
me. 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake,"  I  replied. 

"  He  asked  for  el  Teniente  O'Donnel;  and  he  has  a  packet  for 
you." 

"  Bring  it  in,  please,  and  let  me  see  how  it's  addressed." 

"  He  won't  give  it  up,  sir,  without  seeing  you  himself.  Those 
were  his  instructions." 

I  got  up  impatiently  and  went  into  the  hall,  where  a  boy  in  the 
livery  of  some  shop  handed  me  a  small  parcel.  There  was  no 
address  upon  it,  and  I  wondered  if  this  were  not  some  purchase 
of  Pilar's,  sent  back  to  my  care.  However,  I  decided  to  open  it, 
and  found  nothing  inside  except  a  little  steel  paper-knife  with  the 
word  Toledo  engraved  on  the  black  and  gold  handle. 

I  stared  at  the  thing  stupidly  for  a  moment,  as  I  fumbled  for  a 
pourboire  to  give  the  messenger,  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  he 
might  explain  the  mystery.  "Did  a  lady  buy  this?"  I  asked;  "a 
young  lady,  with  a  tall  senor  also  young,  and  another  middle- 
aged?" 

"  A  young  lady  ?  yes,  sir.  But  she  was  with  only  one  senor,  and 
two  senoras,  both  of  an  age." 

"You  saw  them?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Describe  all  four,  and  you  shall  have  two  pesetas  instead  of 
one." 

"  One  senora  was  Spanish,  brunette,  fat,  with  dead  eyes  in  a 


A  PARCEL  FOR  LIEUTENANT  O'DONNEL     139 

large,  soft  face  of  two  chins.  The  other  was  tall  and  foreign, 
handsome,  but  with  an  air  !  I  would  not  be  her  servant.  The 
senor  was  distinguished.  Dark,  with  a  thin  nose  that  turned  down, 
like  his  moustache;  a  face  of  an  old  picture;  one  shoulder  higher 
than  the  other." 

"  But  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  the  senorita  was  a  white  and  gold  angel,  made  of  a 
sunbeam !  It  was  she  who  bought  the  knife,  while  the  others  chose 
a  thing  for  the  tall  senora.  She  quickly  gave  it  and  the  money  to  an 
attendant,  with  the  address,  saying  it  must  be  put  into  the  gentle- 
man's own  hand." 

I  gave  the  boy  five  pesetas  instead  of  two. 

A  paper-knife  with  the  word  Toledo  engraved  upon  it  from 
Monica  for  me!  No  message,  only  that!  But  was  it  not  in  itself 
a  message  —  the  only  one  she  could  find  a  way  to  send  ? 

I  went  back  to  Don  Cipriano.  "  I've  just  heard,"  said  I,  "  that 
when  Carmona  starts,  he  intends  to  go  to  Toledo." 


XX 

THE  MAGIC  WORD 

WHEN  the  others  came  back,  and  the  paper-knife 
was  shown,  all  agreed  with  me  that  it  could  mean 
but  one  thing.  The  best  of  it  was  that  to  go  to 
Toledo  the  grey  car  must  pass  the  Conde  de 
Roldan's  place  where  my  Gloria  lay ;  and  all  we  need  do  would 
be  to  await  the  moment  when  the  Lecomte  flashed  by.  Then  we 
might  give  Carmona  a  surprise. 

None  of  us  doubted  that  he  must  guess  the  cause  of  his  accident, 
as  we  guessed  at  ours;  nevertheless,  the  blow  he  had  inflicted 
was  far  more  severe  than  our  retaliation,  and  he  doubtless  hoped 
that,  despite  our  revengeful  scratch,  he  could  slip  out  of  Madrid 
leaving  us  hors  de  combat. 

Don  Cipriano  dined  with  us  that  night,  and  went  with  the 
others  to  the  Teatro  Espanol,  where  the  great  Guerrero  and  her 
husband  were  acting.  It  was  not  thought  well  for  me  to  appear, 
lest  the  Duke  should  be  there,  and  say  to  some  acquaintance, 
"  You  see  the  O'Donnel's.  Is  that  the  son  who  is  in  the  army  ?  " 

When  they  returned,  Pilar  had  news.  Carmona,  with  the  Duch- 
ess, Lady  Vale-Avon,  and  Monica  had  all  been  at  the  theatre  in 
a  box. 

"I  knew  that  girl  was  beautiful,"  said  Pilar,  "but  I  didn't 
know  how  beautiful  until  to-night!  With  her  pearly  skin  and 
golden  hair  among  all  the  dark  heads,  she  gleamed  like  a  pearl 
amid  carbuncles,  and  everyone  was  looking  at  her.  You  know 
how  we  admire  fair  beauties,  and  how  we  expect  to  adore  the 
young  queen  when  she  comes  ?  Well,  if  it  had  been  Princess  Ena 

140 


THE  MAGIC  WORD  141 

herself,  people  could  hardly  have  stared  more,  and  the  Duke  was 
delighted.  He  wants  everything  that's  best  for  himself,  and  to 
have  others  appreciate  it.  He  was  so  proud  of  Lady  Monica  be- 
tween acts,  and  kept  bending  over  her  as  if  she  belonged  to  him. 
I  don't  think  he  saw  us;  but  I  was  glad  you  weren't  there,  or  you 
would  have  been  wild  to  fly  at  him." 

"  You  make  me  wild  to  do  that  now,"  I  said. 

"  Have  a  little  patience,  and  you  will  steal  her,"  said  Pilar. 

"  If  she  would  only  let  me !  But  she  won't." 

"  Who  knows  what  she  will  be  ready  to  do  if  they  press  her  ? 
And  after  to-night,  too !  She  seemed  half  afraid  of  him,  as  if  she 
began  to  realize  more  and  more  what  he  is.  Oh,  if  you  weren't 
here  I  should  want  to  do  some  desperate  deed  and  snatch  her 
away  myself!  He  likes  having  her  admired,  while  she's  not  yet 
his ;  but  he  has  enough  of  the  Moor  in  him  to  shut  up  a  wife,  so 
that  no  other  man  should  see  her  beauty.  And  then  presently  he 
would  tire,  and  be  cruel." 

"  Don't  let's  talk  of  it,"  said  I.  "  It's  not  going  to  happen." 

Though  it  was  so  late  before  we  slept,  we  were  dressed  at  an 
unearthly  hour  —  according  to  the  Cherub  —  and  driving  out 
with  the  small  luggage  which  accompanied  us  on  the  car,  to  Don 
Cipriano's  place  on  the  Toledo  road. 

Ropes  had  spent  the  night  there,  and  the  Gloria  was  ready. 
The  luggage  was  got  into  place ;  and  Don  Cipriano  and  his  moth- 
er —  a  fairy  godmother  of  an  old  lady,  with  a  white  dome  of  hair 
under  a  priceless  black  lace  mantilla  —  were  determined  to 
provide  us  with  food  and  drink  as  if  to  withstand  a  siege. 

There  was  a  snow-cured  ham  from  Trevelez,  the  most  famed 
in  Andalucia.  There  was  delicious  home-made  bread,  cuernos, 
molletes,  and  panecillos;  and  olives  large  as  grapes.  There  was 
white,  curded  cheese;  quince  jam  or  came  de  membrillo;  angels' 
hair,  made  of  shredded  melons  with  honey;  mazapan,  smelling 
of  almonds,  and  shaped  like  figures  of  saints,  serpents,  and 
horses;  oranges  from  Seville  and  Tarifa;  fat  figs  dried  on  sticks; 
and,  most  wonderful  of  all,  a  wineskin  of  the  country,  so  old  that 


142  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

the  taste  of  the  skin  was  gone  a  generation  ago,  and  plump  with 
as  much  good  red  wine  as  would  have  filled  six  bottles. 

"  You  will  need  these  things,"  insisted  the  old  lady,  giving  the 
Cherub  a  friendly  pat  on  the  arm,  as  she  encircled  Pilar's  waist. 
"  It  is  different  on  the  road  between  Madrid  and  Seville,  from 
those  you  have  travelled.  You  will  want  to  lunch  out  of  doors,  in 
the  sunshine,  for  you  won't  find  good  things  like  these  at  any 
little  venta.  I  know,  for  I  have  been  with  my  son.  I  am  a  heroine, 
my  friends  say.  We  will  pack  everything  well  for  you." 

"And  the  wineskin  you  must  hang  on  the  side  of  the  car,"  said 
Don  Cipriano,  all  solicitude  for  our  welfare,  poor  fellow,  believ- 
ing happily,  as  he  did  now,  that  neither  Dick  nor  I  was  danger- 
ous. "There's  no  cure  for  Spanish  dust,  except  Spanish  wine. 
Besides,  you're  going  through  wild  country  where  automobiles 
are  seldom  seen.  If  peasants  are  inclined  to  throw  stones,  the 
sight  of  a  good  skin  of  wine  should  soften  them.  And  what  true 
man  would  risk  damaging  a  wineskin  ?  " 

That  fairy  godmother,  Dona  Rosita,  conceived  a  fancy  for 
Dick,  who  flirted  with  her  in  his  bad  Spanish  so  outrageously 
that  she  was  delighted.  He  made  her  feel  young  again,  she  said, 
and  it  was  a  shock  to  find  that  he  was  an  American.  She  had  not 
forgiven  America  for  the  Cuban  war,  which  she  had  not  under- 
stood in  the  least.  "But  you  are  not  wicked!"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  thought  all  American  men  were  wicked,  and  would  do  any- 
thing for  money.  Ay  de  mi  !  I  must  again  pardon  Columbus  for 
discovering  your  country,  I  suppose;  though  I  have  often  said  in 
these  last  years,  how  much  better  if  he  had  left  it  alone.  I  used  to 
stop  in  my  carriage  near  the  Cristobal  Colon  statue  in  the  Prado, 
when  the  war  was  on,  and  laugh  to  watch  the  people  throw  things, 
because  they  were  annoyed  with  him  for  the  trouble  he  had 
brought.  Yet  now  I  see  there's  something  to  thank  him  for,  after 
all."  This  last  with  a  look  at  Dick  which  must  have  melted  his 
American  heart  like  water  if  she  had  been  of  the  age  of  Pilarcita. 
But  what  would  she  have  said  had  she  known  that  —  indirectly 
—  Columbus  had  sent  to  Spain  a  rival  for  her  adored  Cipriano  ? 


THE  MAGIC  WORD  H3 

Ignorance  being  bliss,  the  delightful  mother  and  son  were  a 
hostess  and  a  host  almost  too  hospitable. 

As  if  the  hampers  stowed  in  the  car  were  not  enough,  a  tre- 
mendous breakfast  on  a  table  loaded  with  flowers  was  provided 
for  us.  But  just  as  we  sat  down,  at  ten  o'clock,  a  servant  on 
duty  as  scout  appeared,  panting  after  a  scamper  across  fields, 
to  say  that  a  motor  had  passed.  Our  chauffeur  sent  word  that  it 
was  the  motor;  and  was  ready  to  start  our  car. 

This  was  the  signal  for  confusion,  cries  of  regret,  wishes  for 
good  luck,  laughter,  and  exclamations.  Filar  and  the  Cherub 
were  persuaded  to  finish  their  cups  of  thick  chocolate,  flavoured 
with  cinnamon,  while  Dick  and  I  drank  our  strong  coffee  and 
left  our  aguardiente. 

Off  we  went,  in  flowery  Spanish  speech  kissing  the  senora's 
feet,  while  she  kissed  our  hands;  Don  Cipriano  leaped  upon  a 
horse  to  see  us  off,  all  his  dogs  about  him ;  and  ten  minutes  later 
our  pneus  were  pressing  the  track  in  the  white  dust  made  by 
the  Lecomte. 

We  soon  lost  sight  of  gay  Madrid,  with  its  domes  and  spires 
clear  cut  against  the  white  mountains,  to  run  through  a  green 
landscape  of  growing  corn  and  grape,  vineyards  framed  for  our 
eyes  with  distant  hills  flaming  in  Spanish  colours,  red  and  gold. 
Colonel  O'Donnel  pointed  out  an  isolated  elevation  which  he 
said  was  the  exact  centre  of  Spain;  and  of  course  there  was  a 
convent  on  its  top.  Every  other  hill  had  a  ruined  watch-tower, 
brown  against  a  sky  of  deeper,  more  thoughtful  blue  than  Italy's 
radiant  turquoise.  Men  we  met  rode  upright  as  statues  on  noble 
Andaluz  animals,  grand  as  war-horses  in  mediaeval  pictures; 
but  some  did  not  scorn  to  turn  abruptly  aside  at  sight  and  sound 
of  out  motor,  to  go  cantering  across  fields  to  a  prudent  distance. 
Carters  with  nervous  mules  held  striped  rugs  over  the  creatures' 
faces  till  we  had  passed;  donkeys  brayed  and  hesitated  whether 
to  sit  down  or  run  away,  but  ended  in  doing  neither;  yet  no  man 
frowned. 

Dick  said  that  now,  at  last,  he  began  to  feel  he  was  really  in 


144  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Spain,  because  we  met  the  right  sort  of  Spanish  faces,  the  only 
kind  he  was  ready  to  accept  as  Spanish.  He  had  been  satisfied 
with  the  strongly  characteristic  qualities  of  everything  else 
(especially  the  balconies,  the  hall-mark  of  domestic  architecture 
in  Spain) ;  the  rich,t>ily  cooking;  the  pillows,  oh,  the  stony  pillows ! 
the  manners  of  the  people,  and  the  costumes  of  Castile.  But  the 
features  of  the  people  hadn't  been,  till  to-day,  typical  enough  to 
please  him.  He  had  expected  in  the  north  mysterious  looking 
Basques;  then,  something  Gothic  or  Iberian,  if  not  Moorish, 
with  a  touch  of  the  Berber  to  give  an  extra  aquiline  curve  to  the 
nose.  But  not  a  bit  of  it!  Noses  were  as  blunt  as  in  England, 
Ireland,  or  America,  and  might  have  been  grown  there.  It  was 
only  this  morning  that  we  had  flashed  past  a  few  picture-book 
Spanish  features,  and  fierce,  curled  moustaches. 

"Wait  till  you  get  farther  south,"  murmured  the  Cherub, 
"you  will  see  the  handsome  peasants.  They  put  townspeople  to 
shame." 

"And  mantillas  —  I  want  mantillas,"  said  Dick.  "I've  only 
seen  one  so  far,  except  in  the  distance  at  Vitoria;  I  expected 
every  woman  to  wear  one.  Now  you,  senorita,  owe  it  to  your 
country." 

Pilar  laughed.  "  Fancy  a  mantilla  in  a  motor-car.  You  haven't 
seen  me  yet,  senores  —  no,  not  even  when  I  went  to  the  play. 
When  we're  at  Seville,  why,  then  you'll  be  introduced  to  the 
Real  Me.  Look  you,  I  have  but  one  sole  hat  in  this  wide  world, 
beyond  this  motoring  thing  I  bargained  for  at  Burgos.  You've 
no  idea  what  a  hat  —  such  a  hat  as  a  self-respecting  senorita 
can  put  upon  the  head  God  made  —  costs  in  this  land  of  Spain. 
Twice  —  three  times  what  it  would  be  elsewhere,  so  travelled 
women  say,  and  to  have  a  smart  one  is  necessary  a  trip  at  least  to 
Biarritz.  As  for  Dona  Rosita,  she  is  old-fashioned,  and  always 
wears  the  mantilla;  indeed,  on  her  wedding  tour  to  Paris  she  had 
to  buy  her  first  hat  in  Marseilles,  she  says ;  for  thirty  years  ago, 
you  could  hardly  find  one  in  Spain.  Now,  most  of  the  ladies  in 
Madrid  wear  hats,  except  for  the  bull-fight;  but  in  dear  Seville, 


THE  MAGIC  WORD  145 

it's  different.  I  shall  no  longer  have  a  headache  with  the  hatpins 
which  pinch  these  hairs  of  mine.  Santa  Maria  Purisima,  you 
shall  see  what  you  shall  see." 

She  spoke  as  if  to  me;  but  she  glanced  at  Dick,  who  —  though 
he  had  still  to  pose  as  the  owner  of  the  car  —  was  growing  fond 
of  the  tonneau,  while  Ropes  drove.  Woe  betide  Don  Cipriano  if 
he  had  seen  that  glance! 

By  and  by  we  turned  off  the  main  road  at  Cetafe,  and  got 
caught  by  closed  bars  at  a  railway  crossing. 

"  We  shall  probably  be  here  an  hour,  and  might  as  well  lunch," 
said  the  Cherub  resignedly;  but  when  a  humble-looking 
luggage  train  had  crept  in,  it  was  so  impressed  with  our 
air  of  superior  importance  that,  to  our  surprise,  it  backed 
out  rather  than  obstruct  our  honourable  path;  and  the  gates 
were  wheeled  back  for  us  to  pass  in  front  of  the  engine's  polite 
little  nose. 

It  was  a  spin  of  but  fifty  miles  from  Madrid  to  the  olive  planta- 
tions (the  first  I'd  seen  in  Spain)  near  Toledo;  but  the  road  sur- 
face was  not  of  velvet;  and  we  had  often  to  slow  down  foi  animals 
who  hated,  because  they  did  not  understand,  that  moit  faithful 
and  loyal  of  beasts,  the  automobile.  Therefore  it  was  close  upon 
one  o'clock  when  the  noble  old  town  rose  in  wild  majesty  before 
us  on  its  granite,  horseshoe  hill,  girdled  by  the  dark  gold  bed  of 
the  Tagus. 

Madrid  seen  from  afar  off  had  scarcely  been  impressive,  but 
this  Rome  of  Spain  —  though  we  did  not  approach  it  by  way  of 
the  world-famous  bridge  —  was  grander  than  any  picture  had 
led  me  to  believe. 

We  had  seen  nothing  of  the  grey  car  yet,  not  even  a  cloud  of 
dust,  but  we  knew  it  must  be  here,  and  everyone  of  us  looked 
forward  to  watching  the  face  of  the  Duke  when  he  should  march 
into  the  dining-room  of  the  best  hotel,  where  by  this  time  he  and 
his  party  were  probably  about  to  lunch. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  should  see  Monica,  perhaps  be  as  near  to 
her  as  at  the  fonda  of  the  Escurial.  That  was  the  thought  most 


146  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

absorbing;  yet  my  spirit  was  on  its  knees  before  this  ancient 
throne  of  kings. 

I  could  hardly  believe  that  the  sullen  yellow  stream  pounding 
its  way  through  the  gorge,  and  shouldering  aside  huge  rocks  as 
if  they  were  pebbles,  was  really  the  Tagus,  enchanted  river  of 
my  childish  dreams  —  the  river  my  father  loved  —  the  golden 
river  I  had  scarcely  dared  hope  to  see. 

Not  a  legend  of  the  Tagus  or  Toledo  that  I  did  not  know, 
I  reminded  myself  dreamily.  I  knew  how,  in  the  grand  old  days  of 
the  city's  glory,  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem  had  respectfully  sent  a 
deputation  to  the  wise  Jews  of  Toledo,  asking :  "  Shall  this  man 
who  says  He  is  the  Son  of  God  be  given  up  to  the  Roman  law,  and 
die  ?  "  And  how  the  Jews  of  Toledo  had  hastened  to  return  for 
answer:  "By  no  means  commit  this  great  crime,  because  we 
believe  from  the  evidence  that  He  is  indeed  the  long  looked-for 
Redeemer."  How  the  caravan  had  made  all  speed  back,  arriving 
too  late ;  and  how,  because  of  their  wisdom  and  piety,  the  Jews  of 
Toledo  had  been  spared  by  the  Inquisition  when  all  others 
burned. 

I  knew  how,  in  a  time  of  disaster  and  poverty  for  Toledo,  San 
Alonzo,  a  poor  man,  prayed  heartily  to  the  Virgin,  in  whose  life- 
time the  cathedral  had  been  begun,  imploring  her  help  for  the 
town;  how  she  came  at  his  call,  and  looking  about  to  see  what  she 
could  do,  touched  the  rock,  which  throbbed  under  her  fingers 
like  a  heart,  until  all  its  veins  flowed  with  molten  iron ;  how  this 
iron  was  drunk  by  the  Tagus  in  such  draughts  that  the  water 
became  the  colour  of  old  gold ;  and  how  after  that,  the  city  grew 
rich  and  famous  through  the  marvellous  quality  of  its  steel, 
which,  the  faithful  believe,  owes  its  value  to  the  iron-impregnated 
Tagus. 

I  knew  how  the  King  of  the  Visigoths  had  here  become  a 
Christian,  and  made  of  Toledo  the  ecclesiastical  capital  of  Spain. 
I  knew  how  the  Cid  had  ridden  to  the  city  on  Babieca,  beside 
treacherous  Alonzo.  I  knew  how  Philip  the  Second  had  been 
driven  away  by  the  haughtiness  of  the  clergy,  pretending  greater 


THE  MAGIC  WORD  147 

love  for  Madrid,  that  town  built  to  humour  a  king's  caprice.  I 
knew  how,  even  as  in  the  mountains  round  Granada,  in  every 
cave  among  the  rocks  of  the  wild  gorge,  sleeps  an  enchanted 
Moor  in  armour,  on  an  enchanted  steed,  guarding  hidden  trea- 
sure, or  waiting  for  the  magic  word  which  will  set  him  free  to  fight 
for  his  banished  rulers.  And  yet,  here  was  I  entering  this  ancient 
citadel  mighty  in  history  and  fable,  in  an  automobile,  with  a 
photographic  camera ! 

"  But  you  are  a  banished  prince  yourself,"  said  Pilar,  when  I 
spoke  something  of  what  was  in  my  mind.  "  And  you've  come  out 
of  your  enchanted  cave  at  the  magic  word.  That  magic  word  is  — 
Love." 


HIGH  on  the  hill  Colonel  O'Donnel  pointed  out  the 
Alcazar  of  many  vicissitudes,  long  since  turned  into 
a  military  academy,  which  has  made  Toledo  to  Spain 
what  Woolwich  is  to  England.  "There  your  father 
and  I  went  to  school,"  said  he.  "I   come  every  year  or  two, 
and  wander  about  with  my  thoughts." 

With  this,  he  began  bowing  right  and  left  to  young  officers  who 
sauntered  inside  the  gateway.  Nearly  everyone  knew  and  seemed 
delighted  to  see  him ;  indeed,  who  could  see  the  excellent  Cherub, 
and  not  be  glad  ? 

He  himself  was  happy.  "There  go  your  father  and  I!"  he 
exclaimed,  picking  out  the  two  best-looking  infants  in  a  pro- 
cession of  incredibly  small  boys  proudly  wearing  a  smart  uniform. 
"  Oh,  where  are  the  girls  who  used  to  smile  at  us  ?  " 

So  we  drove  into  the  Moorish-looking  stronghold,  through  a 
labyrinth  of  steeply  ascending  tunnels  which  were  streets. 
They  were  so  narrow  that  I  would  not  have  believed  the  car 
could  scrape  along  without  smashing  the  mud-guards,  had  not 
the  Cherub  valiantly  urged  us  on,  with  assurances  that  it  could 
be  done.  And  always  we  did  slide  through,  the  sides  of  the 
Gloria  so  close  to  open  doors  and  windows  that  we  could  have 
reached  into  dark  rooms,  and  helped  ourselves  to  loaves  of  bread, 
brass  cooking  vessels,  coarse  green  pottery,  jars  of  flowers,  or 
astonished  babies. 

There  was  no  space  for  dwellers  in  these  shadowed  lanes  to 
rush  from  there  houses  before  our  car,  when  warned  by  the 

148 


THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  149 

"choof,  choof"  of  the  motor  as  we  rattled  over  the  "agony 
stones,"  that  something  extraordinary  was  coming;  but  mothers 
shrieked  for  their  offspring,  while  young  girls  hailed  their  friends 
to  the  free  show;  and  men,  women,  and  children  jostled  each 
other  good-naturedly  in  every  window  and  door  as  we  approach- 
ed, pouring  out  in  our  wake,  though  seemingly  half  afraid 
even  then  that  the  dragon  might  take  to  charging  back  upon  them. 

Beautiful  faces  peered  from  behind  rusty  bars,  with  eyes  to 
tempt  any  man  to  "  eat  iron, "  as  the  saying  is.  Dark  men  with 
sun-warmed  eyes,  and  black  heads  wrapped  in  handkerchiefs 
of  scarlet  silk,  stared  curiously  at  Pilar's  veil;  and  when  we 
emerged  from  the  stone-and-plaster  labyrinth,  into  a  wider 
space  where  the  hotel  stands  like  an  ancient  palace,  we  were 
swamped  by  the  laughing  crowd  which  had  formed  into  a  trot- 
ting procession  behind  us. 

Just  as  the  marble  wliiteness  of  the  patio  cooled  our  eyes, 
down  the  stairs  came  those  with  whom  my  thoughts  had  raced 
ahead;  the  Duchess  of  Carmona;  Monica  and  her  mother; 
behind  them  the  Duke. 

Monica  grew  rose-red  at  sight  of  us.  Her  elders,  not  in  the 
Duke's  confidence  concerning  the  Gloria's  disabilities,  appeared 
as  little  surprised  as  pleased;  but  Cannona's  various  and  visible 
emotions  included  extreme  astonishment.  I  looked  at  him,  my 
cap  off  for  the  ladies,  smiling  and  nonchalant  as  if  nothing  had 
happened  since  our  last  meeting;  and  despite  the  self-control 
inherited  from  Oriental  ancestors,  for  an  instant  he  tried  in  vain 
to  hide  mingled  rage  and  bewilderment.  Possibly  he  might  have 
fancied  that  we  had  come  by  train,  had  not  Ropes  been  starting 
the  car  at  that  moment,  en  route  for  some  resting-place  masque- 
rading as  a  garage;  and  the  "choof,  choof"  of  my  Gloria 
came  in  through  the  open  doors  like  a  defiant  laugh. 

Then  he  must  have  wondered  how,  by  all  that  was  demoniac, 
we  had  contrived  to  track  him  to  Toledo! 

"This  is  quite  a  surprise,  Senor  Duque!"  said  I,  as  we  met 
in  the  patio  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


150  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  Ye  —  es, "  he  answered,  tugging  at  his  moustache,  and 
wishing  us  and  our  car  on  some  uninhabited  planet. 

*'  And  a  great  pleasure ! " 

"  Una  —  er  —  of  course, "  he  mumbled ;  and  I  dared  not  meet 
Monica's  laughing  eyes,  lest  our  lips  should  laugh  as  well. 

They  went  to  lunch;  but  we  were  not  many  moments  behind, 
and  Pilar,  murmuring  in  my  ear,  "Cats  may  look  at  a  king, 
whether  the  king  likes  or  not, "  gaily  selected  a  table  next  to  the 
others.  She  then  kept  up  a  stream  of  talk  with  Monica,  exchang- 
ing impressions  of  Madrid.  "  Didn't  you  love  the  shops  ? "  she 
asked.  "And  shall  you  buy  Toledo  things  to-day;  scarf-pins  and 
hatpins  and  paper-knives;  or  did  you  buy  too  many  yesterday  ?  " 

"I  think  I  bought  just  enough,"  said  Monica,  with  a  quick 
smile.  "  But  I  shall  get  more  here.  We're  going  to  a  metal  work- 
shop, after  the  cathedral. " 

But  this  was  sheer  audacity,  and  was  punished  as  I  feared  it 
would  be. 

Not  wishing  to  pursue  with  too  conspicuous  violence,  lest 
we  defeat  our  object,  we  let  Carmona's  party  leave  the  dining- 
room  before  us.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  we  followed,  going 
out  into  the  strange  grey  streets,  haunted  by  men  and  women 
who  have  made  history.  Dick  (armed  with  a  book  by  Leonard 
Williams,  greatest  of  authorities  on  Spain)  was  allowed  to  walk 
beside  Pilar,  while  that  most  unsuspecting  and  kindly  of  chap- 
erons, the  Cherub,  bestowed  his  society  on  me.  But,  according 
to  his  habit,  he  was  often  silent,  giving  me  time  to  dream  of 
Toledo's  past. 

Picturesque  enough  were  the  figures  of  to-day  in  the  old 
grey  capital  of  the  Visigoths,  yet  they  were  not  as  real  for  me  as 
other  figures  which  only  my  mind's  eye  could  see. 

Here  was  the  long,  flat  fa9ade  of  the  building  legend  had 
chosen  as  the  palace  of  Wamba  the  Benefactor  —  the  Farmer 
King.  I  saw  the  old  man  waking  to  life  in  the  dungeon  where  the 
treachery  of  one  loved  and  trusted  had  thrown  him,  dressed  in 
the  monkish  garb  which  never  again  could  be  changed  for  robes 


THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  151 

of  state.  I  saw  a  haggard  company  of  Jews  marching  into 
"Tarshish, "  scarred  and  bleeding  from  the  persecutions  of 
Nebuchadnezzar  who  had  flung  them  from  Jerusalem.  I  saw 
Moorish  men  fighting  to  take  Toledo  —  the  "  Lookout, "  "  the 
Light  of  the  World,  "and  fighting  again  to  save  it  for  themselves. 

There,  in  the  towering  Alcazar,  had  Rodrigo  betrayed  his 
beautiful  queen,  Egilona,  for  the  still  more  beautiful  Florinda, 
daughter  of  Julian,  Espatorios  of  Spain;  at  least,  so  legend  said, 
mingling  the  romantic  music  of  its  ballads  inextricably  with 
the  deep  organ  notes  of  history.  Below,  on  the  cliff  above  the 
Tagus,  in  the  Tower  of  Hercules,  had  Rodrigo  taken  the  painted 
linen  cloths  from  the  enchanted  casket,  and  seen  the  awful  vision 
of  the  Moorish  horde  with  his  own  figure  fleeing  before  them, 
one  day  when  he  forgot  the  prophecy  which  warned  all  kings  of 
Spain  against  entering  that  mysterious,  locked  door. 

Up  this  narrow  street  in  the  town,  behind  that  barred  window 
with  its  curious  cannon-ball  decorations,  perhaps  the  incom- 
parable Dona  Flor  of  Dumas'  "  Bandit "  had  smiled  and  pierced 
the  heart  of  the  "  Courier  of  Love  "  with  her  beauty. 

It  was  like  awaking  from  a  brilliant  dream  when  the  Cherub 
stopped  abruptly,  to  point  up  at  the  vast,  incongruous  bulk  of 
the  cathedral  towering  over  us.  But  there  was  nothing  incon- 
gruous in  the  rich,  Gothic  splendour  within;  and  my  sole  shock 
of  disappointment  came  when  I  gave  up  hope  of  finding  Monica. 

They  had  punished  her  by  changing  their  plan  of  campaign, 
and  I  must  seek  her  elsewhere.  But  I  could  not  wrench  my 
friends  from  this  great  monument  of  Spanish  glory,  merely 
because  I  cared  more  to  look  on  Monica  Vale's  face  than  the 
face  of  any  saint,  carved  or  painted  by  a  master's  hand. 

I  stayed,  therefore,  finding  such  consolation  as  I  could  in  the 
jewelled  gleam  of  rare  old  glass,  the  magnificence  of  bronze 
doors;  tombs  of  kings  and  heroes;  and  all  the  wonders  of  gold, 
silver,  pearls,  and  diamonds  which,  stored  in  the  sacristy,  do 
honour  to  the  famous  Black  Virgin,  the  cathedral's  Queen. 

Coming  out  again  into  the  town  was  like  stepping  with  a 


152  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

single  stride  back  from  Europe  into  Africa;  for  nowhere  can 
Moslem  and  Christian  civilizations  be  more  closely  tangled 
than  in  Toledo.  Moorish  streets  were  like  scimitar  strokes  cleft 
deep  in  the  city;  narrow  chasms  lined  with  secretive  houses, 
giving  here  and  there  a  glimpse  of  some  bright,  flowery  patio, 
through  half-open  doors  studded  with  iron  bosses,  and  heavy 
enough  to  resist  a  siege;  yet  above  the  tiled  roofs  soared  Christian 
spires  in  the  translucent  blue. 

No  one  cared  for  us  now  that  we  were  no  longer  gods  in  a  car, 
except  an  occasional  beggar,  to  whom  the  Cherub  would  mur- 
mur, "God  will  aid  you,  sister!"  "Pardon  me,  brother!"  and 
then,  changing  his  mind,  drop  a  penny  into  a  withered  old  hand, 
or  a  pink,  childish  palm. 

"  They'll  leave  the  shopping  to  the  last,  because  Lady  Monica 
told  us  it  was  to  be  done  first, "  said  Pilar  sagely;  so  we  wandered 
through  the  shabby  aisles  of  Rag  Fair,  Pilar  hoping  against  hope 
to  unearth  a  treasure;  because,  did  not  a  man  once  pick  up,  for 
a  song,  a  Greco  worth  a  fortune,  and  did  not  one  always  find 
something  at  least  amusing  in  the  Rag  Fair  of  Madrid  ?  Thence 
we  went  on  to  the  Moorish  mosque,  which  the  Visigoths  began, 
and  so  to  San  Juan  de  los  Reyes,  which,  Pilar  said,  I  must  like 
better  than  anything  else  in  Toledo,  because  she  did.  With  an  air 
of  possession  she  explained  the  votive  chains  of  captive  Chris- 
tians darkly  festooning  the  outer  walls,  and  I  did  not  tell  her  I 
had  heard  the  story  long  ago.  She  shuddered  as  she  pointed  to 
the  crucifix  which  used  to  go  with  the  procession  of  the  auto- 
da-fe.  "Only  think  how  different  times  are  now!"  said  she. 
"  When  Philip  the  Second  was  going  to  be  married  to  his  bride, 
not  fourteen,  a  great  show  in  honour  of  the  marriage  was  a 
burning  of  heretics,  here  in  the  Zoco  —  the  market-place  of 
Toledo!  I  shouldn't  have  cared  much  to  see  a  royal  wedding 
then.  I  don't  even  like  to  look  at  that  crucifix,  it  gives  me  such 
thoughts.  But  see,  aren't  those  carved  stone  galleries  where 
Ferdinand  and  Isabel  used  to  hear  mass,  like  two  great  chased 
silver  goblets  ?  I  hope  the  king  and  queen  never  sat  there  watching 


THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  153 

the  poor  wretches  bound  before  marching  off  to  the  Zoco  to  die; 
but  I'm  sure  Isabel  wouldn't:  she  was  so  sweet,  she  must  often 
have  wished  she  hadn't  made  that  awful  promise  to  Torquemada. 

"  You're  Catholic,  yet  you  say  that ! "  I  exclaimed,  as  we  stood 
looking  at  the  gorgeous  shields  of  Los  Reyes  Catolicos.  Dick 
was  near,  listening  with  concealed  eagerness  for  the  girl's  answer, 
—  and  no  wonder,  since  he  was  Protestant,  and  not  the  man  to  be 
a  turncoat,  even  for  his  love. 

"  Oh  yes,  I'm  Catholic, "  said  she.  "  But, "  —  half  whispering, 
— "Spaniards,  even  the  most  ardent  Catholics,  didn't  really 
love  the  Inquisition.  It  was  thrust  on  them;  and  —  I  suppose 
in  those  brutal  old  days  it  was  a  horrible  excitement  to  see  the 
burnings.  It's  natural  to  us  Latins  to  have  excitement;  and  after 
years  of  such  dreadful  ones  as  we  had  in  those  times,  do  you 
wonder  the  people  clamour  for  bull-fights  ?  " 

"Then  you  don't  think  we  Protestants  deserve  burning?" 
asked  Dick,  staring  at  the  crucifix. 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 

"  But  you  —  couldn't  make  a  real  friend  of  one,  I  suppose, 
or  —  er  —  let  yourself  care  about  one  much  ?  " 

"  I  should  try  and  convert  him  —  or  her.  " 

"  Supposing  you  couldn't  ?  " 

"  Then,  I'd  have  to  like  him  —  or  her  —  in  spite  of  all.  And 
he  —  or  she  —  would  have  to  leave  my  religion  alone.  But  I'm 
tired  of  solemn  things;  and  brother  Cristobal's  dying  to  buy 
metal-work. " 

I  don't  think  that  Dick  knew  whether  he  had  been  encouraged 
or  not.  And  he  must  have  remembered  that  the  Con^e  de  Roldan 
is  the  best  and  most  eligible  of  Catholics.  Poor  Dick!  Perhaps 
he  was  beginning  to  realize  how  much  easier  it  is  to  advise 
another  man  to  be  sensible  than  to  be  sensible  yourself. 

Pilar  had  been  right  in  her  surmises  as  to  the  workings  of 
Carmona's  mind.  When  we  came  to  the  showroom  of  the 
Fabrica  de  Espadas,  where  the  dusk  was  shot  with  a  thousand 
gleams  and  glitters  of  strange  weapons,  there  were  those  we  had 


154  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

sought  in  vain  till  now.  The  Duchess,  yellow  with  fatigue,  was 
resting  her  stout  person  on  a  benc1  *  in  the  long,  low  room,  Lady 
Vale-Avon  beside  her,  looking  tired  and  bored.  But  Carmona 
was  at  the  glass-covered  counter,  begging  Monica's  advice  in 
the  selection  of  his  purchases. 

His  back  was  towards  us  as  we  entered,  and,  unnoticed  by 
him,  we  saw  him  hold  up  to  the  light  a  small  sharp  dagger,  with 
a  handle  beautifully  ornamented.  He  was  indicating  with  his 
finger,  for  Monica's  benefit,  the  delicate  tracery  upon  gold,  when, 
warned  by  lack  of  attention  and  wandering  glances  on  the  part 
of  his  companion,  he  turned  in  our  direction.  Then,  hastily 
laying  down  the  dagger,  he  pushed  it  away  as  though  resenting 
the  intrusion  of  our  eyes. 

"After  all,  we  went  to  the  Cave  of  Hercules,"  said  Monica, 
"  and  to  the  house  where  the  Moorish  nobles  were  supposed  to 
be  murdered;  so  we  missed  you  when  we  got  to  the  cathedral. 
Senorita  O'Donnel,  do  come  and  help  me  choose  presents  for 
some  girls  at  home,  in  England. " 

She  spoke  brightly,  yet  wistfully,  as  if  wondering  whether 
she  would  be  allowed  to  go  back  to  those  girls,  a  girl  herself, 
and  able  to  call  England  home. 

Filar  crossed  to  her  at  once,  and  Dick  and  I  followed.  The 
good  Cherub  tactfully  engaged  the  attention  of  the  Duchess 
and  Lady  Vale-Avon,  looking  so  innocent  that  it  was  more  than 
they  could  do  to  be  rude  to  him.  And  while  the  Duke  sulked, 
we  picked  out  wonderful  knives  and  forks  for  our  luncheon- 
hampers,  and  thin  sword-sticks  of  leather  which  imitated  bamboo 
and  concealed  blades  so  flexible  that  they  could  be  rolled  up  like 
watch-springs. 

"  Let's  all  buy  presents  for  each  other,  in  memory  of  the  day, " 
suggested  Dick ;  and  began  by  offering  Pilar  a  pair  of  splendid 
hatpins.  She  retaliated  with  sleeve-links;  so,  emboldened  by  this 
prelude,  I  begged  Monica  to  accept  a  brooch  shaped  like  a  shield. 
"Now  I  shall  never  lack  protection,"  said  she,  with  gentle 
emphasis;  and  it  was  well  for  me  that  the  Cherub  was  showing 


THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  155 

Lady  Vale-Avon  some  marvellous  sword  passes.  "  Let  me  see, " 
the  girl  went  on,  when  she  had  defiantly  pinned  the  trinket  into 
her  lace  cravat,  under  Carmona's  furious  frown.  "What  shall 
I  give  you  for  luck  ?  Shall  it  be  a  dagger  ?  Where's  the  one  you 
were  looking  at,  Duke  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know, "  he  answered,  so  angry  with  me  for  my  pre- 
sumption that  he  could  hardly  speak,  though  not  daring  to  show 
his  true  feelings  and  imperil  his  chances.  "It  seems  to  have 
disappeared.  But  we  must  really  go  at  once.  My  mother  is  tired, 
and  we  still  have  several  things  to  see  before  I  can  take  you  back 
to  the  hotel  to  rest. " 

Purposely,  he  spoke  in  a  loud  tone,  and  Lady  Vale-Avon 
heard  through  the  Cherub's  honeyed  murmurs.  She  rose,  and 
called  Monica,  who  was  swept  away  without  finding  the 
dagger. 

It  was  dinner-time  when  we  returned  to  our  hotel;  but  Car- 
mona's party  did  not  appear  in  the  dining-room.  We  lingered  on 
hoping  that  they  would  come,  until  it  was  useless  to  hope  longer, 
and  as  we  drank  black  coffee,  in  the  patio,  Colonel  O'Donnel 
asked  a  waiter  where  were  the  people  who  had  lunched  with  us. 
"  They  have  taken  a  private  sitting-room, "  replied  the  man, 
which  was  a  relief,  as  I  began  to  be  haunted  by  black  fear  that 
Cannona  had  flitted  by  night. 

By  and  by  Pilar's  long  lashes  drooped,  and  the  Cherub, 
catching  her  in  the  act  of  stifling  a  yawn,  laughingly  ordered  her 
off  to  bed.  "  You  haven't  had  enough  sleep  these  last  few  nights 
to  keep  a  cigarron  alive, "  said  he.  Soon  afterwards  his  own  eyes 
began  to  look  like  those  of  a  sleepy  child,  and  he  excused  him- 
self with  all  the  ceremony  of  Spanish  leave-takings.  Dick  and  I 
were  left  alone  together,  and  were  discussing  what  the  morrow 
might  bring  forth,  when  a  waiter  hovered  near  us,  bowing. 

"The  Excelentisima  Senora  Duquesa  de  Cannona  would 
consider  it  a  favour  if  Senor  Waring  and  Teniente  O'Donnel 
would  visit  her  in  her  sitting-room, "  he  announced. 

Were  the  heavens  about  to  fall  ?  My  lifted  eyebrows  and  Dick's 


156  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

questioned  each  other  in  bewilderment.  But  our  lips  were  silent 
as  we  followed  the  servant. 

The  sitting-room  of  the  "  Excelentisima  Senora"  was  on  the 
first  floor,  perhaps  a  big  bedroom  hastily  transformed.  What 
we  expected  to  see  as  the  waiter  opened  the  door  I  hardly  know ; 
but  we  assuredly  did  not  expect  to  see  the  Duchess  sitting  alone. 

The  table  where  the  party  had  dined  was  covered  now  by  a 
piece  of  gaudy,  pseudo-Moorish  embroidery,  and  adorned  with 
flowers.  A  few  guide-books  and  novels  were  scattered  about,  and 
in  her  hand  the  Duchess  held  a  paper-covered  volume,  as  if  she 
had  been  reading.  But  the  expression  of  the  dark,  heavy  face 
contradicted  her  pose.  We  could  see  that  she  was  excited. 

"  Forgive  my  not  rising,  as  I  am  tired, "  she  said,  as  we  came 
in.  "  It  is  kind  of  you  to  be  so  prompt,  and  I  thank  you. "  Then 
she  paused,  and  we  waited. 

"  I  beg  you  to  sit  down.  I  want  the  pleasure  of  a  talk. " 

We  obeyed.  And  still  waited. 

"I  am  a  little  embarrassed,"  went  on  the  Duchess.  "You 
must  be  patient.  What  I  wish  to  say  is  difficult.  And  yet  the 
Senor  Teniente,  being  himself  Spanish,  will  understand.  We 
are  in  Spain,  the  land  of  formality  and  rigid  etiquette,  among 
people  of  our  class.  That  an  automobile  with  two  young  un- 
married men  in  it  (and  even  Colonel  O'Donnel  is  a  widower, 
not  old)  —  that  such  an  automobile  should  be  closely  following 
ours  which  contains  a  beautiful  girl,  is  calculated  to  cause 
gossip.  Everywhere  we  go  along  this  route  my  son  and  I  have 
acquaintances,  friends;  and  already  there  has  been  talk,  which 
flies  from  place  to  place  in  gossiping  letters  between  women. 
I  am  sure  you  would  not  like  to  think  that  you  had  caused  me 
this  distress  on  account  of  my  sweet  young  guest  and  her  mother  ?  " 

Never  had  I  been  more  completely  taken  aback.  She  had  us 
at  her  mercy;  for  how  is  a  man  to  fight  against  a  woman  ? 

"We  are  motoring  in  your  direction, "  I  said  lamely.  "The 
chances  of  the  road  bring  us  together. " 

"  Ah !  but  I  ask  you,  as  a  woman  of  my  age  may  ask  a  favour 


THE  DUCHESS'S  HAND  157 

of  young  men  like  you,  senores,  not  to  take  those  chances.  If  it 
is  as  you  say  —  and  of  course  I  believe  —  that  you  happen  to  be 
motoring  on  our  road,  it  would  be  no  great  hardship  to  delay  and 
give  us  a  longer  start.  Remember,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  a  young 
girl,  and  for  an  old  woman's  peace  of  mind.  Will  you  do  this 
kindness,  then,  for  me?" 

She  had  struck  me  dumb.  I  did  not  know  how  to  answer  her, 
and  she  knew  it.  Even  Dick,  with  his  quick  Yankee  wit,  for  once 
was  unready.  And  indeed,  the  Duchess  had  us  at  a  hateful 
disadvantage. 

"  We  are  in  something  of  a  hurry,  Senora  Duquesa, "  I  stam- 
mered awkwardly. 

"  Then,  rather  than  cause  you  loss  of  time,  we  will  be  off  very 
early,  and  go  as  far  as  may  be  in  the  day.  If  we  leave  at  —  let 
us  say  seven  o'clock  to-morrow,  it  would  not  be  too  inconvenient 
for  you  to  wait  till  nine  ?  That  is  all  I  ask;  and  to  stay  the  night 
at  Manzanares  instead  of  trying  to  get  on  to  some  other  stopping 
place.  If  you  promise  this,  you  are  honourable  men,  and  I  know 
you  will  keep  your  word. " 

She  had  her  lesson  well,  and  had  evidently  rehearsed  it  with 
her  son,  for  this  lymphatic,  weary-eyed  woman  was  not  one  to 
know  in  advance  the  names  of  halting  places  on  an  automobile 
tour.  It  was  clever  of  Carmona  to  use  his  mother's  plump  hand 
as  a  cat's-paw  to  pull  his  chestnuts  from  the  fire;  but  it  was  not 
brave,  because  he  must  know  that  we  could  not  let  it  touch  the 
flames. 

I  thought  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Only  boors  could  in  so 
many  words  refuse  such  a  request,  put  with  apparent  frankness 
by  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  their  mother.  Yet  I  must  not  be 
trapped  into  promising  anything  that  could  separate  me  from 
Monica. 

To  be  near  her,  at  her  service  always,  was  the  one  thing  of 
supreme  importance;  but  to  throw  aside  my  sheep's  clothing  and 
declare  myself  a  wolf  would  be  to  lose  her;  for  the  instant  that 
Carmona  was  sure  of  my  identity  he  would  denounce  me.  I 


158  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

would  be  sent  across  the  frontier  while  Monica  remained  with 
him,  unprotected  save  by  her  mother,  who  was  his  loyal  friend. 
This  was  sure  to  happen,  even  if  I  did  not  count  the  trouble  I 
might  cause  Colonel  O'Donnel  if  I  were  arrested  while  posing 
as  his  son. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  we  must  agree  to  do  what  the  Duchess 
asked,  and,  while  keeping  the  letter  of  our  promise,  take  means 
to  see  Monica  in  Seville.  There,  I  must  let  her  know  all  that  had 
taken  place,  even  if  I  could  not  communicate  with  her  before. 
And  I  must  implore  her  to  come  away  with  me  lest  some  plot 
had  been  hatched  meanwhile  behind  my  back. 

"What  do  you  think,  Waring?"  I  said.  Then,  giving  him  a 
cue,  "  I  feel  that  we  must  consent,  even  though  we  may  not  see 
things  according  to  the  Duchess's  point  of  view. " 

"Why,  of  course,  a  man  can't  refuse  a  lady;  a  lady  generally 
knows  that, "  Dick  answered,  avenging  our  wrongs  with  one 
sharp  dig. 

She  thanked  us  effusively.  "Then  I  may  depend  on  you?" 
she  asked,  looking  at  me. 

"  You  may  depend  upon  us, "  I  said.  "  And  pray  don't  trouble 
to  leave  at  an  inconvenient  time.  My  friend  and  I  promise  you 
two  hours'  start." 


XXII 

THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK 

IT  was  late,  and  Monica  must  have  gone  to  bed,  therefore  it 
was  impossible  to  send  her  a  message.  Next  morning  I 
was  up  early,  and  had  my  coffee  and  roll  on  a  little  table 
in  the  patio,  in  the  hope  of  snatching  a  word  with  her. 
But  she  came  down  as  closely  attended  by  her  mother  and  the 
Duchess  as  if  she  had  been  a  queen,  and  they  her  ladies-in- 
waiting.  I  had  only  a  chance  to  say  good-bye,  as  they  were 
ready  to  drive  off;  and  when  I  would  have  added  a  hasty  ex- 
planation of  our  delay,  the  Duchess  began  to  speak,  so  that 
Monica  was  whisked  away  without  hearing. 

"  Wicked  —  old  —  cat  I "  was  Pilar's  exclamation  when  Dick 
told  her  the  story  of  last  night's  dilemma.  But  when  asked  what 
she  would  have  done  in  our  place,  her  invention  failed ;  and  the 
Cherub  approved  our  course. 

The  others  had  taken  full  advantage  of  our  generosity,  and 
had  not  left  Toledo  till  nine.  Therefore,  according  to  our  con- 
tract, we  were  obliged  to  wait  until  eleven,  surprising  Ropes  by 
our  procrastination. 

But  as  we  were  on  the  point  of  spinning  away  from  the  hotel, 
a  goat-herd  turned  the  corner  at  the  head  of  his  shaggy  flock. 
The  man,  tanned  a  dark  bronze  with  constant  exposure,  wore 
his  rags  with  the  air  of  a  king  marching  to  conquest,  and  rather 
than  show  vulgar  curiosity,  strode  past  scarcely  deigning  a  look 
at  the  automobile,  though  it  was  as  likely  as  not  the  first  he  had 
ever  seen.  His  goats,  equally  unconcerned,  strayed  among  our 
wheels  without  hurry,  and  when  they  chose  clattered  off  with 

159 


160  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

much  play  of  little  cloven  hoofs  on  cobblestones.  A  sharper 
note  of  contrast  could  hardly  have  been  struck,  Dick  and  I  said 
to  each  other.  A  meeting  between  the  automobile,  latest  product 
of  man's  restless  invention,  made  to  fly  across  states  and  con- 
tinents, and  the  goat-herd  whose  knowledge  of  the  world  might 
extend  ten  miles  beyond  the  place  where,  since  his  birth,  he  had 
carried  on  one  of  the  most  ancient  occupations  on  the  globe. 
So  the  ages  seemed  united,  and  Virgil  and  Theocritus  brought 
suddenly  face  to  face  with  Maeterlinck  and  Henley;  and  an  in- 
stant later  we  had  taken  a  small  excursion  into  the  middle  ages 
of  superstition.  Pilar  told  us  gravely  that  in  a  volume  of  "Dreams 
and  Love  Lore,"  valued  beyond  all  other  books  by  the  young 
girls  of  Andalucia,  one  read  that  it  brought  good  luck  to  lovers 
to  meet  a  flock  of  goats  when  starting  on  a  journey  in  the 
morning. 

Thus  encouraged  to  hope  for  what  I  dared  not  expect,  we  set 
off,  again  and  again  finding  ourselves  hard  put  to  it  to  get  the 
long  chassis  of  the  Gloria  round  sharp  corners  of  narrow  streets. 
More  than  once  it  could  be  done  only  by  backing  the  car,  a  feat 
which  was  witnessed  with  cries  of  astonishment  by  a  crowd  of 
water-sellers  with  painted  tin  vessels,  milkmen  on  donkey  back, 
knife-grinders,  and  Murillo  cherubs  who  were  following  to  see  us 
off.  Thus  attended  we  slid  down  the  steep  hill  which  twisted 
past  the  old  fortifications  of  Toledo,  and  brought  us  out  at  last 
upon  the  Puente  de  Alcantara,  that  most  wonderful  bridge  of  all 
the  world. 

The  Tagus,  grandest  river  in  Spain,  and  golden  as  old  father 
Tiber  himself,  plunged  through  his  narrow  gorge  a  hundred 
feet  below  the  arch  of  stone,  and  on  either  hand  stood  up  the 
sun-baked  cliffs,  Toledo  seated  on  their  summit,  crowned  with 
towers,  like  an  empress  upon  her  throne.  Far  beneath,  in  the 
swirl  of  yellow  water  were  Moorish  mills,  white  with  age, 
grinding  corn  for  their  new  masters. 

As  we  passed  across  the  bridge  at  a  foot-pace  between  strings 
of  tasselled  and  jingling  mules,  little  grey  donkeys  loaded  with 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     161 

pigskins  of  wine,  brown  jugs  of  olive  oil,  or  bags  of  meal,  and 
charming  children  who  offered  us  roses  for  a  perrilla,  we  had  our 
last  sight  of  the  cathedral  spires.  The  voice  of  a  young  girl, 
washing  white  and  blue  clothing  in  a  trough  of  running  water, 
sped  us  upon  our  journey.  Her  head  was  bound  in  a  scarlet 
handkerchief;  and  smiling  at  us  while  she  pounded  the  linen, 
she  sang  a  strange  song,  half  chant,  with  that  wild  Eastern  lilt 
which  has  been  handed  down  from  the  Moors  to  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  Spain. 

"She's  improvising  a  copla!"  exclaimed  Pilar.  "Listen;  it's 
for  you,  brother  Cristobal." 

So  I  listened,  and  heard  that  my  eyes  though  dark  as  starless 
skies,  could  blaze  as  the  sun  with  love,  and  that  the  blessing  of  a 
poor  girl  who  had  none  to  care  for  her,  was  upon  the  rich  girl 
who  held  the  treasure  of  my  heart. 

"  You  must  blow  her  a  kiss  to  pay  for  the  song, "  Pilar  said. 
"Don't  you  know  that?  But  then,  you  haven't  been  in  Spain 
long  —  except  in  your  thoughts.  That's  expected;  just  as  a  girl 
must  politely  kiss  her  hand  to  a  bull-fighter  if  he  kisses  his  to  her; 
for  if  she  doesn't,  she  puts  the  evil-eye  upon  him;  and  like  as 
not  he's  gored  the  next  time  he  goes  into  the  arena.  Oh,  I  love 
the  coplas!  And  wasn't  that  woman  singing  in  good  Spanish? 
Even  the  common  people  speak  well  here,  for  Valladolid  and 
Toledo  Spanish  is  the  best  in  Spain. " 

I  looked  back  and  kissed  my  hand  to  the  girl,  who  would  have 
been  insulted  had  I  thrown  money;  and  lifting  my  eyes  once 
more  to  the  towering  city,  I  saw  a  mediaeval  background  such  as 
old  masters  love  to  give  their  pictures. 

The  landscape  was  wild,  and  unchanged  to  all  appearance 
from  the  days  when  the  Crescent  and  the  Cross  battled  for 
supremacy  on  those  stony  hills  and  in  those  savage  gorges.  Once 
again,  I  felt  myself  a  crude  anachronism,  in  my  automobile, 
nor  did  the  impression  leave  me  when  Toledo  was  hidden  round 
a  corner;  nor  when  we  flashed  past  ancient  Eastern  norias, 
slowly  turned  by  sleepy  horses  or  indignant  donkeys;  nor  with 


162  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

glimpses  of  sentinel  watch-towers,  or  ruined  castles  —  such 
"  castles  in  Spain  "  as  Don  Pedro  promised  to  the  Black  Prince's 
soldiers  —  and  seldom  gave  if  they  were  worth  giving. 

Now,  our  business  was  to  hark  back  to  the  king's  highway 
between  Madrid  and  Seville  —  that  road  on  which  Dick  thriftily 
planned  his  quick  service  of  automobiles  for  passengers  and 
market  gardeners ;  but  to-day  there  was  none  of  that  excitement 
of  the  chase  to  which  we  were  accustomed.  I  was  depressed 
despite  the  good  omen  of  the  goats,  and  an  encounter  with  a 
mule  who  had  four  white  feet  —  a  sign  of  some  extraordinary 
piece  of  luck,  according  to  Pilar's  Dream-Book.  The  gently 
undulating,  olive-silvered  country,  with  its  occasional  far-off 
hamlets  and  fine  church  spires  did  not  interest  me,  and  I  was 
not  as  thankful  as  I  should  have  been  for  the  good  road. 

At  last  we  had  left  the  zone  of  brown  cities  and  sombre  hued 
villages,  and  come  into  the  zone  of  dazzling  white  habitations, 
which  meant  that  we  were  nearing  the  southern  land,  loved  by 
the  sun.  The  huge,  semi-fortified,  high-walled  farmhouses  stand- 
ing in  lonely  spaces  were  white  as  great  shells  floating  solitary  on 
seas  of  waving  green.  The  close-grouped  knots  of  cottages  huddled 
together  for  mutual  protection  might  have  been  cut  from  blocks  of 
marble;  and  their  tenants  were  vivid  creatures,  burning  like 
tropical  flowers  against  the  dazzling  white  of  their  rough  walls. 

Never  for  ten  minutes  was  the  landscape  the  same.  From  olive 
plantations  we  rushed  into  a  bleak  country  of  savage  hills,  where 
windmills  planted  upon  rocks  beckoned  with  slowly  moving 
arms;  so  down  into  flowery  valleys  with  a  thread  of  silver  river 
tangled  in  the  grasses  near  a  long  white  road.  And  always  the 
horizon  was  broken  with  tumbled  mountains,  purple,  gold,  and 
rose,  swimming  in  a  sea  of  light  and  changing  colour. 

"Soon  we'll  be  in  Cervantes'  country,"  said  the  Cherub; 
"  and  good  country  it  is  —  for  sport.  I  come  myself  sometimes 
with  friends,  after  wild  boar;  and  there  are  plenty  of  rabbits  to  be 
had  when  there's  nothing  better. " 

"  Don't  speak  of  rabbits, "  said  Dick.  "  It  makes  me  hungry 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     163 

to  think  of  them;  and  as  nobody  has  said  anything  about  lunch- 
ing, and  we're  having  such  a  good  run,  I  haven't  liked  to  mention 
it.  Still,  there's  that  Andaluz  ham  and  goodness  knows  how 
many  other  things  wasting  their  sweetness  —  " 

The  Cherub  shook  his  head.  "  We  mustn't  stop  here.  It  will 
be  better  to  wait  till  we  come  to  another  road-mender's  house. 
We're  sure  to  pass  one  before  long.  Then  we'll  pull  up,  and  the 
women  will  bring  us  water,  or  anything  we  want. " 

"I  believe  what  you're  really  thinking  of,  is  brigands!" 
exclaimed  Pilar. 

"Well,"  smiled  the  Cherub,  "maybe  something  of  the  sort 
was  in  my  mind;  though  you  need  have  no  fear,  my  Pilarcita. " 

"As  if  I  would  —  a  soldier's  daughter!"  sneered  Pilarcita. 
"I  wish  we  would  meet  the  Seven  Men  of  Ecija,  or  El  Vivillo 
himself  —  if  they  haven't  caught  him  yet.  It  would  be  fun.  " 

"  No  fun  with  you  among  us,  child, "  the  Cherub  said.  "  The 
chivalrous  bandoleros  of  the  past  exist  in  these  days  only  in 
story  books  and  ballads.  Vivillo  is  a  villainous  brute,  and  a  little 
farther  south  we'll  find  no  one  on  the  road  who'll  care  to  speak 
his  name.  They'll  call  him  Senor  Coso.  As  for  the  Seven  Men 
of  Ecija,  one  says  that  they're  disbanded  long  ago,  yet  there's 
a  rumour  that  they  still  exist;  and  by  the  way,  Don  Ramon,  for 
generations  that  famous  band  of  seven  brigands  has  had  a  con- 
nection —  at  least  in  old  wives'  gossip  —  with  the  Dukes  of 
Carmona. " 

"  How's  that  ?  "  I  inquired,  interested;  for  though  I  had  heard 
many  things  about  that  house,  I  had  not  heard  the  story  at  which 
Colonel  O'Donnel  hinted. 

"I  wonder  you  don't  know!"  said  he.  "Why,  the  tale  runs 
that,  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  baby  heir  of  the  Car- 
monas  was  ailing.  If  they  lost  him,  the  title  would  go  to  another 
branch  of  the  family;  but  the  Duchess  had  died  within  a  few  days 
of  his  birth,  and  no  foster-mother  could  be  found  to  give  the 
child  health.  Then  the  Duke  caused  it  to  be  known  far  and  near 
that,  if  any  woman  could  save  his  boy,  she  should  have  a  pension 


164  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

for  life,  enough  to  keep  her  in  comfort  with  all  her  family;  and 
that  her  daughter  and  her  daughter's  daughter  should,  if  she 
chose  to  make  the  contract,  be  foster-mothers  of  future  Dukes 
of  Carmona.  In  answer  to  this  proclamation  came  a  woman  of 
Ecija,  the  town  of  the  brigands ;  a  Juno  of  a  creature.  She  nursed 
the  ailing  heir  back  to  health,  and  when  the  child  had  become 
devoted  to  her,  the  secret  leaked  out  that  she  was  the  married 
sister  of  the  terrible  priest  who  led  the  brigand  band.  But  she 
was  not  sent  away  for  that  reason.  Instead,  the  Duke  used  his 
influence  successfully  to  obtain  a  pardon  for  her  husband,  the 
priest's  brother-in-law,  when  he  was  taken  red-handed  for 
robbery  and  murder  between  Carmona  and  Seville;  and  in 
gratitude  for  this  the  man  promised  that  his  sons  and  sons' 
sons  should  be  always  at  the  disposal  of  the  ducal  house.  For 
the  rest,  the  story  goes  that  more  than  once  in  the  last  century 
this  promise  has  been  exacted  and  fulfilled  in  secret.  " 

"I  wouldn't  put  it  past  the  present  Carmona  to  have  a  nest 
of  bandits  up  his  sleeve, "  said  Dick.  "  It's  a  pretty  black  sleeve, 
if  some  of  the  things  one  hears  are  true.  But  here's  a  road- 
mender's  cottage.  What  about  halting,  and  cocking  snooks  at 
El  Vivillo?" 

"  It  will  do  very  well, "  replied  the  Cherub.  "  If  worst  came  to 
worst,  we  could  make  a  good  defence  from  inside.  " 

"  Honestly,  aren't  you  pulling  our  legs  about  the  brigands  ?  " 
asked  Dick,  half-scornful  and  half-amused,  as  we  slowed  down. 

"  No, "  said  the  Cherub.  "  I'm  not  joking,  if  that's  what  you 
mean ;  for  we  are  on  the  borders  of  the  bandido  country  now.  It 
will  be  years  before  brigandage  is  stamped  out  in  Spain;  and 
you  must  have  read  of  the  trouble  there's  been  lately.  Not  that 
I  think  there's  much  chance  of  an  encounter,  but  it's  well  to  be 
prepared ;  for  if  a  band  of  men  jump  at  you  with  carbines  to  their 
shoulders,  there's  no  getting  out  revolvers. " 

"H'm!"  muttered  Dick.  "I  suppose  you  know  what  you're 
talking  about;  but  I  wouldn't  mind  betting  that  these  people 
would  laugh  if  we  asked, '  What  about  brigands  ? ' ' 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     1C5 

"  All  right ;  let  us  ask, "  said  the  Cherub  calmly. 

By  this  time  the  car  had  stopped  close  to  a  tiny  white  box  of  a 
house  set  a  few  yards  back  from  the  road,  with  a  strip  of  grass 
for  a  lawn;  and  an  old  man,  evidently  an  ex-soldier,  with  a 
plump  wife  and  a  pretty  daughter  were  coming  out.  We  inter- 
changed various  compliments;  said  that,  with  the  kind  per- 
mission of  his  honour,  the  road-mender,  we  would  lunch  near  his 
house;  were  told  that  the  house  and  everyone  as  well  as  every- 
thing in  it,  was  at  our  worship's  disposal;  and  finally  the  Cherub 
.  murmured  a  question  as  to  whether  any  bandidos  had  been  seen 
lately. 

This  way  and  that  the  old  man  glanced  before  answering. 
Then  below  his  breath  replied  that,  as  it  happened,  four  gentle- 
men of  the  profession  had  passed  no  more  than  three  or  four 
hours  ago.  They  were  out  of  luck,  for  they  had  been  hunted  by 
the  civil  guard ;  and  as  they  were  hungry  had  gone  over  to  the 
right,  there,  to  see  what  could  be  got  at  the  nearest  farm.  As  for 
this  place,  it  was  safe  enough,  for  there  was  nothing  in  it  which 
even  a  brigand  would  have;  and  one  had  to  be  agreeable  to  these 
persons,  if  they  stopped  to  rest  or  chat;  it  was  more  prudent. 

"  You  see,  you  would  have  lost  your  money  if  I'd  taken  your 
bet,  Senor  Waring, "  said  the  Cherub. 

Never  was  such  a  lunch  as  that  we  had  by  the  roadside.  We 
all  worked  at  spreading  out  the  contents  of  the  hampers,  while 
the  road-mender  and  his  family  bustled  about,  not  as  inferiors 
with  the  hope  of  a  tip,  but  helping  us  as  friends  and  hosts. 

When  we  arrived,  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen,  save  the  dwellers 
in  the  white  box.  The  only  living  things  beside  the  trio  and  our- 
selves, were  the  larks  that  sprang  heavenward  pouring  jewels 
from  throbbing  throats,  and  a  few  unknown  birds  of  brilliant 
red  and  yellow,  like  drifting  flower-petals.  But  whether  these 
birds  carried  the  news,  or  whether  it  blew  over  the  country  with 
the  scented  wind,  certain  it  is  that  an  audience  collected  to  gaze 
upon  us,  as  clouds  boil  up  over  a  clear  horizon. 

It  was  not  an  intrusive  crowd  that  came;  neither  did  they 


166  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

approach  offensively  near,  or  stare  with  vulgar  curiosity.  It's 
component  members  —  three  or  four  handsome  young  mule- 
drivers,  princely  in  shabbiness;  an  elderly  tiller  of  the  soil,  with 
the  eyes  and  profile  of  a  half -tamed  hawk;  an  old  woman  and  a 
young  girl  madonna-like  in  their  hooded  clocks,  as  they  sat  their 
patient  donkeys;  and  a  couple  of  shy  children  with  the  eyes  of 
startled  deer  —  hovered,  paused,  and  ruminated,  ready  to  take 
flight,  like  wild  creatures  of  the  forest,  at  a  rude  look  or  chaffing 
word. 

But  they  got  no  rude  looks  or  chaffing  words  from  us. 
though  we  dared  not  smile  too  invitingly,  lest  they  misunder- 
stand, and  flee  from  us,  offended.  We  bowed  gravely;  they  gravely 
bowed  in  return.  Then,  following  a  hurried  whisper  of  advice  from 
the  tactful  Cherub,  we  continued  our  meal.  But  presently,  sand- 
wich in  hand,  he  strolled  towards  the  scattered  group,  mingled 
with  it,  and  murmured.  What  he  murmured,  we  in  the  car  and 
round  it  could  not  hear;  but  the  chill  uncertainty  on  those 
dark  faces  brightened  into  sympathetic  amusement. 

"He's  telling  them  about  ourselves  and  the  automobile," 
chuckled  Pilarcita.  "  Oh,  I  know  him !  He's  probably  making  up 
nonsense  about  the  car  and  its  workings.  In  another  minute 
they'll  be  his  slaves,  and  friends  of  us  all. " 

As  she  whispered,  the  plump  figure  sauntered  back.  "  I  think 
that  now  it's  safe  to  offer  them  a  share  of  our  food, "  said  he,  in 
the  manner  of  one  who  imparts  a  delicious  secret.  "They  are 
dying  for  some;  but  they'll  refuse  unless  we  go  about  it  in  the 
right  way,  for  they're  as  proud  as  we  are. " 

Pilar  was  not  allowed  to  move,  because,  in  Spain,  women  are 
to  be  worshipped  from  afar,  and  must  not  mingle  with  strangers. 
But  she  handed  plates  of  the  dainties  supplied  by  Dona  Rosita, 
to  Dick  and  me,  and  thus  laden  we  wandered  towards  our 
audience. 

"  Offer  something  first  to  the  road-mender's  family, "  suggested 
the  Cherub,  and  we  obeyed.  "Probably  you  are  not  hungry," 
was  his  preface.  "Why  should  you  be,  when  you  have  plenty 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     167 

of  food  as  good  as  ours,  maybe  better  ?  But  here  are  things  from 
Madrid.  It  may  happen  they  are  new  to  you.  We  shall  be  pleased 
if  you  taste  them. " 

Then  proud,  hesitating  fingers  hesitated  no  longer,  but 
descended  upon  thin  slices  of  ham,  shredded  and  sweetened 
eggs,  cheese,  and  mazapan.  Nobody  betrayed  eagerness,  but 
faces  beamed,  especially  when  the  road-mender,  proud  of  us  as  if 
we  had  been  his  relations,  went  round  with  our  wineskin, 
cordially  bidding  every  man  put  it  to  his  lips. 

As  the  company  ate  and  drank,  the  Cherub  circulated  among 
them,  and  soon  was  primed  with  the  abbreviated  life-story  of 
each  person,  though  he  had  apparently  asked  no  questions. 
Somehow,  it  was  the  first  impulse  of  the  most  reserved  soul  to 
confide  in  the  Cherub;  and  when  the  meal  was  finished,  and  no 
excuse  remained  for  lingering,  the  wild  birds,  tamed  by  kindness, 
flew  away  regretfully. 

"They'll  all  have  good  words  to  speak  for  automobilists 
after  this, "  said  Pilar. 

"  Until  some  ruffian  comes  tearing  along,  upsetting  their  carts 
and  breaking  their  illusions, "  added  Dick. 

When  we  were  ready  to  go  on,  the  road-mender's  wife  would 
not  be  content  unless  Pilar  would  have  a  look  at  the  house, 
which  she  took,  and  came  back  delighted.  "Tiny  rooms,  but 
clean  as  wax, "  she  reported.  "  Pictures  and  crucifixes  and  Toledo 
knives  on  the  snow-white  walls,  and  beautiful  bright  copper  in 
the  kitchen.  I  believe  I  could  be  happy  to  live  there  —  with 
someone  I  loved. " 

Was  the  image  of  Don  Cipriano  in  her  mind  as  she  said  this  ? 
or  Dick's  tanned  face  and  whimsical  grey  eyes  ?  Or  did  she  think 
only  of  an  existence  in  the  society  of  her  father  ? 

"  Beware  gutters ! "  was  the  road-mender's  last  word  as  we 
spun  away;  and  we  were  glad  of  the  warning;  for  despite  careful 
driving,  a  few  seconds  of  inattention  might  have  sent  us  crashing 
into  and  over  a  deep  trough  across  the  road,  half  hidden  by  thick 
dust.  There  were  many  of  these  gutters,  which  might  have  been 


168  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

put  underneath  in  the  form  of  culverts;  but,  as  the  Cherub  re- 
marked, since  nobody  takes  the  trouble  to  complain,  in  Spain, 
why  should  anyone  bother  ? 

There  were  broken  patches,  too,  where  somebody  had  begun 
to  build  a  bridge,  and  then  apparently  forgotten  all  about  going 
on  with  it;  but  luckily  there  were  side  tracks  made  by  other 
pioneers,  by  which,  with  care,  one  could  skirt  the  great  square 
hole,  and  land  safely  on  the  other  side. 

Thus  we  arrived  before  a  walled  town  with  a  Moorish  gateway; 
and,  for  all  the  changes  which  had  come  or  gone  since  the  days 
of  those  who  set  it  up,  the  place  might  have  been  under  a  spell  of 
enchantment,  a  kind  of  "sleeping  sickness,"  for  at  least  five 
hundred  unnoticeable  years. 

Our  maps  said  that  it  was  Ciudad  Real;  Colonel  O'Donnel 
added  that  of  all  garrison  towns  it  was  the  one  which  young 
officers  hated  worst.  And  while  the  car  paused  with  panting 
motor  for  a  discussion  as  to  the  way  on,  two  dark  youths  by  the 
roadside  interested  themselves  in  our  situation.  They  had  red 
handkerchiefs  twisted  round  their  heads,  and  the  smarter  of  the 
pair  wore  two  sombreros,  one  over  the  other  —  a  simple 
way  of  carrying  his  Sunday  hat  on  week-days;  and  they 
looked  up  from  a  meal  of  maize  bread  and  onions  to  enter  into 
conversation. 

Had  our  honours  any  doubt  as  to  the  road  ?  If  so,  and  our 
worships  would  deign  to  mention  the  destination  desired,  they 
might  have  the  happiness  of  helping  us. 

We  wanted  to  go  to  Manzanares,  I  replied. 

In  that  case,  replied  the  owner  of  the  two  sombreros,  there 
was  a  short  cut  which  would  be  of  assistance.  Not  only  would  it 
save  us  a  bad  section  of  road,  but  an  hour's  time  as  well.  We 
must  not  go  through  the  town,  but  turn  to  the  left  round  the  wall, 
nor  must  we  enter  the  village  which  we  would  soon  see,  but 
skirt  that  also.  Presently  we  would  come  to  fields  planted  with 
olives,  and  our  way  would  lead  through  these.  We  must  not  be 
disheartened  if  it  appeared  wild  and  rough.  We  should  be  able 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     169 

to  pass,  and  in  the  end  would  be  glad  that  we  had  availed  our- 
selves of  such  advice. 

Taking  this  for  granted,  I  gave  each  of  the  lads  a  peseta,  which 
they  accepted  more  as  their  just  due  than  as  a  favour.  To  avoid 
the  town,  it  seemed  that  we  must  steer  into  chaos,  void  and  form- 
less; but  there  were  only  a  few  hundred  yards  of  desert.  Beyond, 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  good  road,  which  led  to  the  white  village 
we  had  been  told  to  expect;  and  there,  as  we  were  already  primed 
with  information,  we  wasted  no  time  in  asking  questions.  In- 
stead, we  plunged  into  open  country,  with  a  vista  of  olive  trees 
in  the  grey-green  distance.  From  fair,  the  road  dwindled  to 
doubtful;  then  to  a  certainty  of  badness.  It  narrowed;  softened 
to  a  sandbank;  hardened  into  a  wilderness  of  rocks  and  stones 
scattered  between  deep  ruts  dug  by  the  wheels  of  ox-carts. 
Apparently  no  other  vehicles  than  these  had  ever  weathered  the 
terrors  of  this  passage;  yet  we  persevered;  for  here  were  the 
promised  olive  trees,  so  near,  indeed,  that  we  lurched  against 
them  as  we  rocked  from  side  to  side.  We  had  been  warned  what- 
ever happened  not  to  be  discouraged,  and  we  cheered  each 
other  bravely,  while  our  heads  bumped  the  roof.  "  We  shall 
be  out  of  this  presently,"  we  gasped.  "  It  will  surely  be  all  right 
soon." 

Meanwhile,  however,  it  was  a  nightmare;  the  sort  of  thing 
which  a  delirious  chauffeur  might  dream  and  rave  of,  in  a  fever; 
and  instead  of  improving,  the  way  grew  worse. 

"Can  it  be  possible  those  chaps  deceived  us  on  purpose?** 
I  jerked  out  between  chattering  teeth,  as  the  car  sprang  from  one 
three-foot  rut  into  another,  in  spite  of  Ropes'  coaxing. 

"  I'll  bet  it's  a  trick  of  Carmona's, "  gasped  Dick,  at  the  risk 
of  biting  his  tongue.  "I  thought  that  fellow  in  the  two  hats 
looked  a  fox." 

"I  did  see  them  laughing  when  I  glanced  round  after  we 
passed,"  said  Pilar,  as  jumpily  as  if  she  rode  a  trotting  horse. 
"  But  I  —  thought  — :  they  were  pleased  with  the  pesetas.  ** 

"  1  expect  they'd  got  more  than  we  gave,  to  send  us  the  wrong 


170  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

way,"  growled  Dick.  "We  must  have  been  dreaming  not  to 
think  of  it. " 

"  We  can't  go  about  suspecting  everyone  we  meet  to  be  in 
Cannona's  pay,"  said  I.  "We'd  be  mistaken  as  often  as  right, 
and  then  we  should  feel  small.  After  all,  there  isn't  much  harm 
done." 

"It's  a  wonder  we  haven't  smashed  something,  sir,"  sighed 
the  much  enduring  Ropes. 

"  That's  what  Carmona  prayed  to  his  demons  we  would  do," 
said  Dick. 

"  I'll  back  San  Cristobal  against  them  all, "  said  I. 

"  Besides,  there  was  the  mule  with  the  four  white  feet,  and  the 
goat-herd, "  Pilar  reminded  me. 

"  I  can't  say  they've  brought  us  luck. " 

"Wait,"  said  Pilar. 

"  Meanwhile  let's  turn  back, "  said  Dick.  "  Another  hundred 
yards  like  this,  and  even  if  we  don't  smash  the  differential  or  the 
chassis,  Ropes  will  get  side-slip  of  the  brain.  Half  an  hour  of  such 
driving  must  be  equal  to  a  week  in  Purgatory  for  a  chauffeur. " 

We  did  turn  back,  and  feeling  years  older,  arrived  once  more 
at  the  point  from  which  he  had  started.  We  would  have  given 
something  to  see  the  man  with  the  two  hats,  and  his  companion, 
but  they  had  prudently  taken  themselves  off,  like  full-fed  vul- 
tures. This  time  we  made  no  inquiries,  but  trusted  to  our 
intuition  and  our  maps,  which,  without  once  contradicting  each 
other,  led  us  into  a  decent  road  that  seemed  like  a  path  to  para- 
dise after  all  we  had  endured. 

Making  up  for  lost  time,  and  revelling  in  joy  of  motion,  we  put 
on  our  best  speed,  which  for  a  few  moments  brought  the  road- 
side telegraph  posts  as  close  together  as  fir  trees  in  a  Norwegian 
forest.  But  suddenly  the  motor  slowed,  and  stopped  with  a  tired 
sigh  within  sight  of  a  village  white  as  newly  polished  silver. 

"Petrol  gone,"  said  Ropes.  "It  oughtn't  to  be,  but  it  is. 
Extra  strain  in  that  short  cut  of  the  Duke's  used  it  up.  " 

He  got  out,  and  untied  a  bidon  from  the  reserve  store  fastened 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     171 

upon  the  foot-board.  But  the  tin  was  light  in  his  hand  as  a 
feather.  He  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  a  shadow  darkened  his  face, 
a  shadow  which  was  not  made  by  the  brim  of  his  motor-cap  as 
he  bent  his  head  to  examine  the  bidon. 

"  There's  a  leak  here,  sir, "  he  said  to  me  —  for  though  Dick 
was  now  supposed  to  be  his  master,  in  moments  of  stress  he  clung 
to  old  habits.  "  Looks  as  if  the  tin  had  been  pricked  with  some 
sharp  instrument.  H'm!  Shouldn't  wonder  if  it  had  been.  It 
would  be  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest. " 

"  You  mean  at  Toledo  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Everything  was  right,  then.  I  bought  enough  petrol 
in  Madrid  to  last  to  Cordoba,  pretty  well  all  we  could  carry,  and 
ordered  more  to  meet  us  there,  grande  vitesse,  in  case  I  couldn't 
get  it  —  as  you  said  we  were  sure  now  to  go  that  way.  " 

"  Well,  let's  look  at  your  other  bidons.  We  shall  be  in  a  fix  if 
we're  held  up  here. " 

"Two  more  empty,"  announced  Ropes.  "And  three  bidons 
don't  suddenly  take  to  leaking,  of  themselves.  I  suppose  if  I'd 
had  my  wits  about  me,  I'd  have  looked,  at  Toledo,  before 
starting;  but  who's  to  think  of  everything  ?  I  did  have  a  thorough 
go  at  the  car,  for  fear  of  mischief,  but  forgot  the  bidons.  However, 
there's  one  to  go  on  with,  I'm  pretty  sure;  for  it's  stowed  away 
in  a  place  nobody  would  think  of,  if  they  had  to  do  the  villain 
act  in  a  hurry. " 

Whereupon  he  handed  out  a  new  bidon  from  the  tool  box, 
and  we  both  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  to  see  that  it  was  intact.  At 
least,  we  had  now  enough  to  get  us  to  Manzanares ;  and  at  worst 
we  could  but  be  hung  up  there  while  Ropes  went  back  by  train 
as  far  as  Madrid  to  buy  petrol. 

While  we  had  been  making  these  discoveries,  however,  the 
village  had  been  discovering  us.  It  was  not  the  time  of  year,  as 
Filar  said,  for  bears  and  monkeys  to  arrive  by  road,  therefore 
when  something  was  seen  approaching  rapidly  and  stopping 
suddenly,  the  inhabitants  of  the  white  town  had  not  been  able 
to  bear  the  suspense.  Somebody  had  given  the  word  that  there 


172  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

was  a  thing  to  see,  and  out  Torralba  came  pouring  in  its  hundreds, 
a  brilliant  procession  a  full  quarter  of  a  mile  long. 

Youth  and  beauty  took  the  lead.  Girls  with  arms  thrown  round 
the  shoulders  of  one  another's  blue,  pink,  or  yellow  jackets 
skipped  along  the  dazzling  road  like  peasant  graces.  Little,  star- 
eyed  brown  boys  had  apparently  taken  the  trouble  to  step  off 
Murillo's  canvases  to  find  out  what  we  were,  while  their  toddling 
sisters  cried  at  being  outdistanced.  Behind  these  came  men, 
middle-aged  and  old,  in  strange-shaped  caps  like  fur  and  leather 
coal-scuttles,  women  with  bare  black  heads,  or  faded  blue 
handkerchiefs  shadowing  withered  faces,  and  beggars  hobbling 
on  their  sticks;  a  shouting,  laughing  army  pouring  its  bright 
coloured  stream  down  the  white  line  of  the  straight  road.  And 
before  the  Gloria  had  been  refreshed  with  her  long  drink  of 
petrol,  the  wave  of  life  had  broken  round  her  bonnet.  Bright 
eyes  stared,  brown  hands  all  but  touched  us;  and  children  knew 
not  whether  to  shriek  with  fright  or  laugh  with  joy  as  they  saw 
themselves  reflected  in  the  glass  turned  up  against  our  roof. 
But  at  the  first  cough  of  the  motor  as  it  throbbed  into  waking, 
the  throng  rolled  back,  dividing  to  let  us  pass,  as  if  the  car  had 
cloven  it  in  two,  and  joining  again  to  tear  home  in  our  wake. 

All  the  able-bodied  women  who  had  not  come  out  to  meet  us 
were  sitting  before  the  doors  of  their  white  houses,  making  lace 
mantillas  and  flounces  for  the  young  Queen -elect, — Torralba 
is  famous  for  its  lace-makers,  —  and  they  waved  work-worn  hands 
as  we  ran  by',  wishing  us  good  speed,  or  throwing  an  improvised 
copla  after  the  vanishing  Gloria. 

Now  we  were  in  Don  Quixote  land;  and  had  we  gone  back 
to  his  day  as  we  entered  his  country  of  La  Mancha,  our  red  car 
could  have  roused  little  more  excitement.  Village  after  village 
turned  out  for  us;  always  the  same  gorgeous  colours  against 
the  background  of  white  houses  and  blue  arch  of  sky;  always 
the  same  brilliant  eyes  and  rich  brown  faces  with  scarlet  lips 
that  laughed.  It  was  even  a  relief  to  the  monotony  to  meet  a 
band  of  fierce-eyed  young  carters  ranged  in  a  line  with  big  stones 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  DREAM-BOOK     173 

in  their  hands,  wanting  to  bash  in  the  aristocrat's  features,  if  the 
aristocrats  frightened  their  mules.  But  neither  the  aristocrats 
nor  mules  showed  fear.  Pilar  even  leaned  out,  as  if  daring  the 
four  or  five  sullen  fellows  to  throw  their  stones  into  a  girl's  face, 
and  their  arms  fell  inoffensively. 

"  I  don't  believe  any  Spaniard,  no  matter  how  bad,  would  hurt 
a  woman  who  had  done  him  no  harm ! "  she  exclaimed. 

The  road,  with  its  rutty,  irritating  surface,  seemed  endless. 
We  had  started  late,  according  to  our  promise,  and  having  lost 
more  than  an  hour  on  the  "  short  cut, "  grey  wings  of  twilight 
began  at  last  to  fold  in  the  landscape.  It  was  long  since  we  had 
passed  a  village;  Manzanares  was  not  yet  near,  and  I  began  to 
wonder  whether  the  Gloria  would  not  again  grow  thirsty  before 
we  could  give  her  drink. 

Turn  after  turn;  always  the  same  jolting;  always  the  same 
scene,  till  our  minds  wearied.  Then,  suddenly  rounding  a  bend, 
we  came  upon  something  which  made  every  one  of  us  forget 
boredom. 

There  was  the  Duke's  car  —  the  grey  car  which  we  had  sworn 
to  avoid  —  stuck  in  a  caniveau  that  cut  the  road  in  two.  There 
were  Carmona  and  his  chauffeur  staring  balefully  into  the  inner 
workings  of  the  motor;  there  were  the  Duchess  and  Lady  Vale- 
Avon,  dust-powdered  and  disconsolate,  sitting  forlornly  on 
roadside  hillocks;  and  there  was  Monica,  her  veil  off,  walking 
up  and  down  impatiently  with  her  little  hands  buried  in  the 
pockets  of  her  grey  coat,  the  last  gleam  of  sunset  finding  a  re- 
sponsive note  in  the  gold  of  her  hair. 

"What  did  I  tell  you!"  exclaimed  Pilar.  "The  goat-herd! 
The  mule  with  the  white  feet!  It's  the  luck  of  the  Dream-Book!" 


SLOWING  up,  we  were  almost  upon  the  group;  and  for 
once  we  were  welcome  to  our  enemies.  Even  Carmona's 
face  brightened,  a  flicker  of  hope  lit  Lady  Vale-Avon's 
grey  eyes;  and  the  Duchess  deliberately  courted  us 
with  a  smile. 

As  for  Monica,  she  was  radiant  as  a  child  who  has  been  sur- 
prised by  the  home-coming  of  loved  ones;  yet  there  was  a  new 
wistfulness  in  her  eyes,  despite  the  joy  she  showed. 

"Oh,  how  glorious  that  you've  come  to  the  rescue!"  she  cried, 
all  dimples  and  roses.  Still,  she  looked  from  me  to  Pilar,  and  from 
Pilar  to  me,  as  if  she  longed  to  ask  one  or  the  other  some  question 
which  it  was  impossible  to  speak;  and  I  said  to  myself  that  it 
would  go  hard  with  me  if  I  did  not  find  out  before  I  was  many 
hours  older,  what  that  question  was. 

Any  port  is  welcome  in  a  storm  or  among  fellow-motorists, 
if  you  are  helpless  by  the  roadside  with  several  ladies  when  night 
is  coming  on ;  and  Carmona's  first  words  showed  that  he  had  no 
scruple  in  making  use  of  us.  But  with  the  trials  he  had  gone 
through,  and  his  natural  preference  for  the  help  of  any  other 
car  rather  than  the  hated  Gloria,  he  was  in  a  black  mood.  He 
wished  to  be  civil,  lest  we  should  be  goaded  into  leaving  him  in  the 
lurch ;  yet  it  was  plainly  such  an  effort  that  I  could  have  laughed 
aloud.  Pilar  would  have  been  able  to  quote  paragraph  and  page 
of  her  Dream-Book. 

The  worst  damage  to  the  car  was  a  broken  spring,  though 
something  seemed  to  have  gone  wrong  also  with  the  ignition  in 

174 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  175 

ihat  disastrous  bump  into  the  caniveau.  They  had  been  where 
we  found  them  for  a  couple  of  hours,  Carmona  admitted, 
without  encountering  any  vehicle  or  animal  to  give  them  a  tow. 
The  first  hope  had  been  to  stagger  on  to  Manzanares  (which 
originally  they  had  meant  to  pass)  with  a  broken  spring;  but 
the  bee  in  the  motor's  bonnet  could  not  be  made  to  buzz,  and  in 
despair,  Carmona  had  been  about  to  send  his  chauffeur  on  foot, 
in  search  of  some  conveyance  for  the  ladies  and  their 
luggage.  More  hours  must  have  passed,  at  best,  before  the 
man  could  have  returned  to  the  rescue,  and  already  everybody 
was  hungry. 

The  ladies  of  the  Duke's  party  had  to  be  transferred  to  the 
Gloria;  and  Dick,  with  airs  of  ownership,  urged  vague  and 
voluble  reasons  why  I  should  be  their  companion  in  the  tonneau. 
We  were  the  masters  of  the  situation,  and  Carmona's  face,  as 
he  was  obliged  to  take  his  seat  beside  the  chauffeur  who  must 
steer  the  car  in  tow,  repaid  me  for  grievous  wrongs. 

Pilar,  not  to  be  outdone  in  ingenuity  by  Dick,  did  for  me  what 
I  could  not  do  for  myself,  in  contriving  that  I  should  sit  next  to 
Monica.  Though  I  could  say  nothing  for  her  ears  which  other 
ears  might  not  hear,  it  was  a  joy  to  feel  her  slight  shoulder 
nestling  warm  against  my  arm,  to  know  that  she  could  not  be 
snatched  from  me  by  her  mother  or  Carmona,  but  that  as  it  was 
now,  so  it  must  be  for  many  moments,  perhaps  an  hour,  to  come. 
There  was  also  satisfaction  to  be  got  from  the  fact  that  my 
enemy,  bumping  on  behind  in  his  own  disabled  car  (propelled 
by  our  generosity  and  power),  was  glaring  with  malice,  envy, 
and  all  uncharitableness  at  my  back. 

My  one  regret  in  these  moments  which  should  have  been 
perfect,  was  that  my  prophetic  soul  hadn't  caused  me  to  write  a 
long  letter  to  Monica,  which  I  might  have  been  able  to  slip  into 
her  hand  under  cover  of  rugs  and  darkness. 

Ropes  had  to  light  the  lamps  before  we  saw  more  of  Man- 
zanares than  an  illusive  church  spire  which  kept  appearing  and 
disappearing  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  But  the  petrol  held  out,  and 


176  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

the  Gloria's  breathing  was  regular,  despite  the  weight  she  had 
to  tow  over  ruts  and  across  gutters.  Once,  however,  Ropes  looked 
back  at  me  with  an  expressive  movement  of  the  shoulders  which 
I  interpreted  as,  "we're  lucky  if  we  get  there!"  so  I  could  have 
shouted  "hurrah!"  at  sight  of  the  first  houses,  though  they 
brought  my  last  moment  of  happiness. 

Another  instant,  and  the  population  of  Manzanares  was 
answering  to  the  thrum  of  our  motor,  as  soldiers  to  the  call  of  the 
drum.  From  somewhere,  their  saints  alone  knew  where,  an  army 
of  children  poured  into  the  long  straight  street,  and  as  we  slowed 
to  avoid  wholesale  murder,  they  took  advantage  of  our  considera- 
tion to  swarm  up  the  car  like  ants.  They  ran  shouting  beside  us, 
climbed  on  to  the  steps,  hung  on  behind,  fighting  so  ruthlessly 
for  choice  positions  that  they  all  but  fell  under  the  wheels.  One 
would  not  have  supposed  there  could  be  other  children  left  in 
Spain.  How  there  could  be  room  for  these  in  the  town  of  Man- 
zanares was  a  wonder;  how  they  could  all  have  turned  out  on  the 
second  in  their  thousands,  was  a  miracle;  and  their  promptness 
would  have  done  credit  to  any  commander. 

The  shrill  cries  of  this  legion,  drowning  the  sound  of  the  motor, 
and  increasing  as  the  contingent  was  swelled  from  each  side 
street,  roused  the  town.  Families  left  their  tables  and  rushed  to 
the  door,  their  supper  in  their  hands.  Bakers  with  white  arms 
left  to-morrow's  bread  in  the  troughs ;  a  group  of  farriers  shoeing 
a  horse  stopped  work,  until  the  glowing  iron  paled.  Shopkeepers 
who  had  lighted  their  windows  with  a  blaze  of  electricity,  ran 
into  the  street.  Mules  and  donkeys  tied  to  doorposts  shared  the 
general  excitement,  plunged  and  reared  before  the  advance  of 
the  human  breaker  with  the  car  on  its  crest  snapped  their  cords, 
and  dashed  into  their  master's  houses. 

Never,  among  all  our  successes,  had  we  made  such  a  sticces 
fou  as  this;  but  then,  never  before  had  we  had  a  car  in  tow. 
Half  our  triumph  belonged  to  the  Lecomte;  yet  either  of  us 
would  gladly  have  dispensed  with  all ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  a 
small  but  determined  policeman  who  struggled  to  preserve  the 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  177 

credit  of  the  town,  we  might  have  been  half  the  night  fighting  our 
way  to  an  hotel. 

He  dealt  blows  and  exhortations  indiscriminately,  piloted  us 
through  side  streets  which  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  our 
imagination  to  enter,  and  with  exertions  worthy  of  him  who 
"  singly  kept  the  bridge, "  helped  us  make  a  lane  for  the  ladies 
to  dart  into  the  door  of  the  little  fonda. 

It  was  an  iron  door  of  elaborate  openwork,  leading,  Moorish 
fashion,  through  a  shallow  vestibule  into  a  patio  —  the  first  we 
had  seen  on  our  way  south ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  slammed  shut 
with  a  loud  click,  by  some  person  inside,  half  Manzanares  would 
have  poured  after  the  fugitives. 

Assured  of  the  ladies'  safety,  the  men  of  the  two  (outwardly) 
united  parties  remained  to  help  the  chauffeurs  and  a  bewildered 
landlord  to  take  down  luggage.  Overwhelmed  by  a  wave  of  half- 
grown  children  and  a  thick  spray  of  babies,  Carmona's  man  lost 
his  presence  of  mind.  The  two  cars  had  hardly  stopped  before 
the  little  creatures  were  in  them,  and  on  them,  and  under  them, 
trying  to  pinch  the  tyres,  blowing  the  horn,  squalling,  laughing, 
crying.  "Mon  Dieu,  c'est  un  obsession!"  wailed  the  unfortunate 
Frenchman ;  and  even  the  imperturbable  Ropes  showed  signs  of 
"  nerves. " 

As  fast  as  the  thronging  goblins  were  beaten  off,  they  were  up 
again  in  redoubled  force ;  but  so  merry  they  were,  and  so  hand- 
some was  each  bold  brown  face,  with  its  dazzling  eyes,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  be  angry.  Somehow,  we  rescued  the  luggage, 
and  with  the  aid  of  the  landlord  pitched,  or  slid,  or  rolled  it 
through  the  door,  momentarily  opened. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  see  me  through  this!"  implored 
Ropes,  noticing  that  the  men  of  the  party  were  on  the  point  of 
following  the  luggage.  "  Hate  to  trouble  you,  but  I  don't  think 
my  Spanish  will  run  to  it. "  In  pity  I  climbed  into  the  car  to  go 
with  him  to  the  stable  which  the  landlord  indicated  as  our  garage. 
It  was  an  experience  to  be  remembered  in  nightmares ;  yet  there 
was  in  it  a  sort  of  schoolboy  pleasure.  We  seemed  to  have  done 


178  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

battle  against  the  whole  force  of  the  army  out  against  us ;  never- 
theless when  we  returned  to  the  fonda,  swept  along  by  a  large 
bodyguard,  we  found  a  regiment  assembled  round  the  door. 
How  we  got  through  was  food  for  another  wild  dream,  but  we 
did  get  through,  to  stand  panting  on  the  other  side  of  the  grating, 
in  the  patio. 

Dozens  of  dark  faces  were  pressed  against  the  bars,  like  tier 
above  tier  of  glowing  pansies  in  a  flower-bed;  and  we  knew  at 
last  the  sensation  of  those  who  are  the  observed,  not  the  observ- 
ers, in  a  menagerie. 

Everyone  was  in  the  patio,  where  electric  lights  hanging  from 
the  balconies  mingled  with  rich  yellow  lamplight  and  ruddy 
firelight  streaming  from  the  kitchen.  All  the  luggage  was  piled 
anyhow,  in  a  chaotic  heap  surging  with  suit-cases,  boiling  with 
dressing-bags ;  while  near  by,  like  Marius  and  a  friend  or  two 
at  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  stood  the  Duchess,  Lady  Vale-Avon, 
Carmona,  Dick,  and  the  Cherub.  Monica  and  Pilar  had  been 
talking  at  a  distance  with  a  young  girl  of  the  house,  but  seeing  me 
gravitate  in  their  direction,  Lady  Vale-Avon  called  her  daughter. 

"  The  ladies  are  saying  they  can't  stay  here ,"  announced  Dick, 
his  voice  in  sympathy  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  I'm  not  saying  so, "  cut  in  Monica.  "  I  think  it  will  be  fun ;  a 
real  adventure.  The  landlady's  wonderful,  and  all  her  daughters 
and  nieces  beauties.  If  we're  nice  to  them,  they'll  be  adorable 
to  us." 

"The  place  is  a  den!"  exclaimed  Lady  Vale-Avon.  "There 
must  be  something  better  in  the  town. " 

"  I'm  afraid  there  isn't, "  said  the  Duke.  "  This  accident  has 
made  me  helpless.  I'm  horribly  sorry;  but  we  can't  get  on  any- 
where else  to-night. " 

"  We  can  sit  up, "  said  the  Duchess,  "in  the  automobile. " 

"  Do  let's  look  at  the  rooms, "  begged  Monica.  "  And  don't  let 
them  see  we're  finding  fault.  Their  feelings  will  be  hurt. " 

"  What  nonsense ! "  replied  Lady  Vale- A  von.  "As  if  they  had 
feelings ! " 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  179 

"  If  you  don't  consider  them,  they  won't  take  pains  to  make 
you  comfortable, "  I  said,  knowing  by  instinct  the  people  with 
whom  we  had  to  deal.  "They're  beginning  to  suspect  already 
that  something's  wrong,  and  judging  from  the  expression  of 
their  faces  it  will  take  only  a  little  more  for  the  landlord  to  say 
he  has  no  rooms.  Then  we  really  may  have  to  sit  in  the  automo- 
biles. " 

The  keeper  of  the  fonda  and  his  family,  who  had  come  so 
warmly  to  welcome  the  strangers,  were  now  hovering  aloof, 
silent  and  suspicious,  their  spirits  dashed  by  the  contemptuous 
looks  of  Lady  Vale-Avon  and  the  Duchess.  Standing  in  semi- 
darkness,  the  landlord's  face  was  a  blur  of  brown  shadow, 
featureless,  save  for  a  pair  of  enormous  eyes  burning  with  an 
emotion  which  was  no  longer  hospitality.  His  wife,  whose  broad 
shoulder  was  pressed  against  her  husband's  as  if  to  form  a  line 
of  defence,  was  a  dark-browed,  gypsy-like  woman,  who  must  once 
have  been  beautiful,  and  might  now  be  formidable.  Behind 
them  were  grouped  a  handsome  boy,  and  three  or  four  extraor- 
dinarily pretty  girls  with  red  and  white  roses  in  their  hair. 

"They  wouldn't  dare  turn  us  out!"  exclaimed  Lady  Vale- 
Avon.  "  They  can  never  have  had  persons  of  our  sort  before. " 

"If  you  asked,  they'd  probably  retort  that  Dukes  and  Mar- 
quesses were  thick  as  blackberries, "  said  I. 

She  glanced  at  Carmona,  hoping  for  support,  but  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  in  despair;  and  a  look  from  me  was  a  signal  for  the 
Cherub  to  step  forward. 

The  atmosphere  had  begun  to  tingle,  and  in  a  few  moments 
more  it  might  have  been  too  late  to  make  peace  with  these  proud 
and  self-respecting  people,  who  had  never  submitted  to  indignity. 
But  in  the  space  of  six  seconds  the  magnetism  of  the  Cherub  had 
begun  to  do  its  work.  He  murmured,  nodded,  and  smiled,  took 
the  family  into  his  confidence  with  a  few  graphic  gestures,  ex- 
plained that  the  ladies  were  upset  by  an  accident,  appealed  to 
the  landlord's  chivalry,  and  the  landlady's  heart.  Gathering 
frowns  were  chased  away  by  smiles;  and  when  Monica  showed 


180  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

her  dimples  to  the  boy  and  girls  with  a  look  which  pleaded  for 
kindness,  the  battle  was  fought  and  won. 

They  had  not  many  bedrooms.  Several  were  engaged  by 
commerical  travellers,  but  these  gentlemen  should  be  stowed 
into  one  room,  their  clothing  and  luggage  moved  at  once.  Oh, 
they  would  not  object  when  they  learned  that  it  was  a  question 
of  accommodating  ladies;  or  if  they  did,  they  must  eat  their 
objections  for  supper;  it  was  no  matter.  And  the  landlord  and 
landlady  would  give  up  their  room,  a  good  one,  their  worships 
need  have  no  fear.  All  should  be  ready  in  the  opening  and  closing 
of  an  eye.  But  would  we  meanwhile  have  supper?  There  was 
always  enough  for  a  few  unexpected  ones. 

Having  listened  so  far,  the  Cherub  turned  blandly  to  Carmona. 
These  arrangements  need  not  include  the  Senor  Duque's  party, 
unless  he  liked,  of  course,  but  —  his  palms  were  extended  as  if 
to  receive  the  decision.  Plump  it  fell  into  them.  Everyone  must 
stay,  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

So  the  ladies  were  bundled  into  a  room  where  they  might  get 
rid  of  the  dust,  and  the  men  into  another;  clean  rooms,  with 
whitewashed  walls,  bare  save  for  a  pictured  saint  or  two  in 
lurid  colours;  floors  covered  with  coarse,  bright  matting;  and 
iron  beds  with  lace-frillecl  and  embroidered  pillows. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  everyone  was  ready  for  dinner,  but 
five  out  of  fifteen  minutes  I  had  given  to  the  hasty  scribbling  of  a 
pencilled  note  for  Monica.  I  hoped  to  slip  it  into  her  hand  in  the 
dining-room,  but  she  was  closely  under  guard;  and  Carmona 
annexed  four  seats  at  the  head  of  the  long  table,  by  which 
manosuvre  he  secured  isolation  for  his  party.  It  was  safe  from 
any  sortie  of  ours,  as  there  was  a  scattered  contingent  of  com- 
mercial travellers  already  earnestly  engaged  in  dining  on  either 
side  of  the  table.  Two  polite  men  on  the  left,  and  three  on  the 
right,  all  with  napkins  tucked  under  th  ir  chins,  rose,  offering 
to  move  rather  than  divide  friends;  but  Carmona  assured  them 
that  the  sacrifice  was  unnecessary.  As  they  were  all  paralysed 
by  Monica's  beauty,  of  a  type  so  different  from  any  to  which 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  181 

they  were  accustomed,  they  had  not  the  self-command  to  protest ; 
and  as  dinner  went  on  (in  many  courses  of  which  the  landlord 
was  evidently  proud),  they  could  scarcely  do  justice  to  their 
merluza  served  with  grilled  lemon  and  minced  red  Spanish  pepper; 
their  tortilla  of  eggs,  potatoes,  peas,  and  ham;  their  pigeons 
with  olives,  or  even  their  freshly  baked  maccaroni,  for  gazing 
languorously  at  the  vision  of  pink  and  white  and  gold. 

Such  charms  as  Pilar's,  though  unsurpassable  of  their  kind, 
went  for  nothing  with  these  ardent  gentlemen;  and  even  the  land- 
lord's son,  daughters,  and  nieces  who  waited  upon  their  guests, 
forgot  half  their  duties  in  abject  admiration.  "An  angel!"  "a 
saint ! "  "a  princess  of  fairyland ! "  were  a  few  of  their  whispered 
adjectives;  and  when  the  object  of  their  worship  was  snatched 
away  by  her  mother  and  the  Duchess,  before  the  goats' -milk 
cheese  had  been  brought  round,  a  gloom  fell  upon  the  room. 
The  commercial  travellers  galloped  through  the  remainder  of 
the  meal,  and  went  out,  hoping  perhaps,  if  they  promenaded  the 
street,  to  have  the  joy  of  seeing  a  light  in  the  radiant  being's 
window.  The  pretty  girls  of  the  household  vanished  with  mur- 
mured excuses,  leaving  us  at  the  mercy  of  the  boy,  who  sighed 
grievously,  dropped  a  sugar  bowl,  and  spilled  coJee  within 
an  ace  of  the  Cherub's  shoulder. 

Filar  presently  disappeared  also,  leaving  her  three  men  alone 
at  the  table,  observed  only  by  a  few  dozen  eager  faces  pressed 
against  the  iron  bars  protecting  the  open  window. 

Soon  we  heard  peals  of  laughter  from  the  patio;  the  pretty 
girls  were  sallying  forth  on  a  foraging  expedition  in  search  of  a 
warming-pan  to  heat  the  beds  of  the  three  great  ladies,  who 
feared  dampness.  In  twenty  minutes  they  came  back,  and  we 
arrived  in  the  patio  in  time  to  see  the  triumphal  entrance  of  four 
or  five  charming  creatures,  bearing  among  them  a  long-handled 
brass  vessel  which  had  probably  existed  since  the  days  of  Philip 
the  Second.  But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  fun;  and  we 
made  an  excuse  of  our  cigarettes  to  linger,  and  hear  what  we 
could  not  see. 


182  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

It  was  not  a  beautiful  patio  ;  and  the  public  still  surged  out- 
side the  iron-grated  door  in  the  hope  of  further  insight  into  the 
private  lives  of  the  travelling  menagerie;  but  our  luggage  had 
been  carried  to  the  rooms  which  were  now  ready  (thanks  to  the 
complaisance  of  the  dazzled  commercial  gentlemen),  and  there 
were  garden  seats,  on  which  we  settled  ourselves  in  spite  of  the 
chill  in  the  evening  air. 

From  the  rooms  above  we  heard  laughter  and  ecstatic  cries. 
Evidently  the  warming-pan  was  making  a  sensation  as  it  went 
its  round,  or  something  else  had  happened;  and  when  at  last 
the  girls  trooped  downstairs  from  the  balcony,  I  beckoned  them 
to  come  our  way.  They  skipped  to  us,  wild  with  delight  at 
the  prospect  of  pouring  out  their  hearts  to  an  appreciative 
audience. 

The  great  warming-pan,  stuffed  with  embers  that  glowed 
and  paled,  was  laid  on  the  tiled  pavement  while  the  girls  wove 
themselves  into  a  group,  with  interlacing  arms. 

"  Why  are  you  so  happy  ?  "  I  asked 

"Happy?  We  have  been  in  paradise,  with  the  angels,"  re- 
plied the  prettiest  girl  with  crimson  roses  stuck  in  a  bank  of 
copper  hair. 

"  There  was  but  one  angel, "  objected  her  brunette  cousin. 

"  That  is  true.  The  two  old  ones  think  themselves  everything, 
but  they  are  less  than  nothing.  I  would  not  change  my  years 
for  theirs,  with  their  jewels  and  their  quarterings.  Thanks  be 
to  God,  in  our  Spain,  we  are  all  as  noble  as  the  nobles,  or  at 
least  in  this  province!" 

"  You  are  also  all  beautiful ! "  said  I. 

"That  you  can  say  so,  sefior,  after  seeing  that  wonder!" 
exclaimed  the  landlord's  eldest  daughter,  a  creature  of  carnation 
and  flame.  "Ah,  the  joy  of  it,  we  have  been  undressing  her!" 

"If  you  could  have  seen  her,  with  gold  hair  down  to  her 
knees!"  gasped  a  gypsy  of  fifteen.  "And  when  we  had  got  her 
dress  off,  and  she  was  in  her  —  " 

"Hush,  Micaela!  it  is  not  seemly  that  you  should  mention 


xmv    vor    AUK  AS   HAP  AS  i   WAS,   M  \IJKIUITA 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  183 

such  garments  in  the  presence  of  senores!"  broke  in  the  girl  of 
the  copper  coronet. 

"But  why,  then,  since  they  are  most  beautiful?  You  know 
well,  Mariquita,  you  yourself  said  they  were  like  the  handwork 
of  fairies,  and  her  shoulders  —  " 

"  Be  silent,  foolish  one,  or  I  shall  have  to  burn  your  nose  off 
with  the  warming-pan!" 

"And  what  did  the  elder  ladies  say  to  the  young  lady's  new 
maids?"  I  asked  quickly,  as  great  eyes  began  to  flash,  and 
scarlet  lips  to  pout. 

Back  came  the  smiles,  and  the  maidens  fell  into  a  fit  of  school- 
girl giggling. 

"There  was  but  one  Majesty  there,  praise  be  to  the  saints, 
the  English  one,  who  is  no  doubt  the  mother  of  our  lady  angel. 
They  have  two  rooms  between  them,  but  that  of  the  senorita 
is  tiny,  with  no  door  of  its  own,  and  only  a  square  glazed  hole 
for  a  window,  though  the  bed  is  as  good  as  any,  and  we  have 
given  it  the  best  linen.  When  we  took  in  the  warming-pan,  our 
angel  tried  to  say  in  Spanish  that  she  was  sure  our  beds  were  dry 
and  wTell  aired,  as  indeed  they  were.  She  had  taken  off  her  bodice, 
and  was  undoing  her  hair,  which  was  so  beautiful  we  could  have 
fallen  down  and  prayed  to  her  as  a  saint.  Then  we  could  not 
resist,  but  began  helping  her  to  undress,  talking  about  her  beauty. 
She  was  not  offended,  though  we  kissed  her  hands,  and  that 
silly  Micaela  one  of  her  tiny  white  feet  when  we  had  pulled  off 
the  stocking  —  " 

"  Now  you  are  as  bad  as  I  was,  Mariquita. " 

"No,  indeed;  what  is  a  stocking?  A  thing  it  is  as  well  to  go 
without  as  to  wear.  That  is  different.  The  angel  laughed  till  she 
was  close  to  tears,  and  said  we  were  far  nicer  maids  than  the  one 
her  mother  had  sent  on  by  railway  train  in  starting  by  automo- 
bile. After  this,  she  would  be  spoiled  for  others;  and  she  gave  us 
each  one  a  present.  Lola,  two  wondrous  hatpins  with  blue  stones 
in  silver  —  not  that  she  would  ever  suffer  the  tortures  of  a  hat, 
but  it  is  a  great  thing  to  have  them.  Teresa,  a  sweet  round  purse 


184  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

of  blue  leather,  of  the  size  to  hold  a  five  peseta  piece;  Micaela, 
a  handkerchief  with  lace  on  the  edge,  and  me  an  embroidered 
veil  like  a  gossamer.  What  did  we  care  that  Her  Majesty  the 
mother  would  have  sent  us  away  if  she  could?  She  had  riot 
enough  Spanish  to  make  us  understand  what  we  did  not  wish  to 
understand,  and  at  last  she  saved  her  breath  for  another  day. 
But  by  that  time  we  had  finished,  for  we  had  put  our  angel  into 
her  night-dress,  a  thing  of  cobwebs  and  lace  kept  together  by 
blue  ribbons,  which  I  should  have  thought  good  enough  for  a 
queen  to  wear  when  mounting  her  throne. " 

"You  must  show  us  your  presents,"  said  I,  with  deliberate 
cunning.  All  were  displayed  on  the  instant,  with  chattering, 
laughing,  and  clamourous  claims  for  rival  merits.  But  the  veil 
was  the  thing  which  I  looked  on  to  covet.  She  had  worn  it  one 
day  after  rain,  when  the  roads  had  been  clear  of  dust,  and  her 
face  had  gleamed  through  the  lace  as  a  star  gleams  through  a 
floating  cloud-film.  I  felt  that  I  could  not  see  it  in  other  hands 
than  mine. 

While  the  Cherub  compared  the  gifts  with  eloquence,  I  drew 
Mariquita  apart.  "I  want  that  veil  very  much,"  said  I;  "so 
much  that  I'll  give  you  a  hundred  pesetas  if  you'll  part  with  it.  " 

She  opened  her  tobacco-brown  eyes.  "  But  the  senor  is  only  a 
man,  and  cannot  know  that  the  bit  of  embroidered  net  is  worth 
no  more,  in  money,  than  fifteen  pesetas  at  most. " 

"  It  wasn't  its  money-worth  I  was  thinking  about. " 

"A  —  ah,  I  see!  The  senorito —  yes,  of  course,  it  would  be 
strange  if  he  did  not!  I  love  my  new  veil,  not  only  because  it  is 
pretty,  but  more  because  it  came  to  me  from  the  most  beautiful 
senorita  I  have  ever  seen.  Still,  since  the  senorito  will  value  it 
even  more  than  I  can,  I  will  give  it  to  him,  though  not  for  the 
hundred  pesetas.  I  will  give  it  for  nothing  except  his  thanks.  " 

I  told  the  girl  she  was  too  good ;  that  I  could  not  rob  her  of  the 
gift  just  made;  but  she  insisted,  and  I  saw  that  her  pride  would 
be  hurt  if  I  refused.  So  I  accepted,  while  a  way  of  benefitting 
myself  and  rewarding  her  occurred  to  my  mind. 


THE  GLORIFICATION  OF  MONICA  185 

"You  see  how  it  is  with  me."  I  said,  with  a  confidential  air. 
"  You  have  been  very  generous.  Will  you  be  helpful  too  ?  " 

"You  may  trust  me,"  she  answered.  "I  love  a  love  affair, 
especially  if  there  is  difficulty.  I  shall  have  an  acknowledged 
novio  myself  soon,  I  hope.  He  is  a  bull-fighter  —  only  a  beginner, 
but  he  will  be  great  one  day,  and  though  my  father  made  a  long 
face  at  first,  now  he  shrugs  his  shoulders ;  and  when  that  is  done, 
there  is  always  hope.  Her  Majesty  the  mother  makes  the  long 
face,  does  she  not  ?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  She  will  shrug  the  shoulders  by  and  by. " 

"  I  doubt  it.  But  meanwhile,  I've  written  a  letter.  Will  you 
try  to  give  it  to  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes, "  said  Mariquita.  "  I  will  try  my  best.  I  think  I  can  do  it. 
Not  to-night,  for  she  has  gone  to  bed,  and  there  would  be  no 
excuse  to  get  back  to  her  room,  since  I  must  pass  through  Her 
Majesty's.  But  to-morrow  morning  I  will  take  the  ladies'  hot 
water,  with  oh,  such  an  innocent  face!  And  I  will  take  the 
letter  too. " 

"  Thank  you  many  times, "  said  I. 

"The  thing  isn't  done  yet." 

"  It's  for  your  goodwill  I  thank  you  in  advance.  And  this  is 
for  your  bull-fighter,  as  a  present  from  his  novia.  " 

I  took  out  my  scarf-pin.  Her  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  as  it 
would  have  flushed  for  no  sum  of  money.  She  might  have  waived 
away  a  present  for  herself,  but  she  could  not  resist  one  for  the 
novio,  and  I  was  thanked  far  beyond  the  gift's  merit. 

If  she  went  to  bed  happy,  so  did  I,  for  I  believed  that  Monica 
would  have  my  letter  in  the  morning ;  and  if  the  wistfulness  in 
her  eyes  meant  some  new  trouble  in  which  I  had  a  part,  I  hoped 
that  the  words  I  had  written  might  banish  it. 


XXIV 
THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA 

NEVERTHELESS  I  could  not  sleep  on  my  hard  but 
clean  pillows,  for  wondering  about  that  look  of  Mon- 
ica's, and  its  meaning;  and  whenever  I  shut  my  eyes, 
hordes  of  red  and  yellow  figures  poured  out  of  white 
houses  upon  white  roads,  forming  irritating,  kaleidoscopic  pat- 
terns on  my  tired  retina. 

Each  hour  that  passed  was  cried  by  the  watchman,  far  away, 
and  then  close  under  my  window;  a  fearsome  cry  like  a  groan  of 
agony  uttered  by  a  madman  in  a  dying  spasm. 

I  was  glad  when  morning  came;  and  after  such  a  bath  as  two 
or  three  miniature  jugs  of  water  afforded  (the  deer-eyed  boy 
wondered  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints  what  I  could  do  with  so 
many),  I  threw  off  the  brain-clouds  of  a  sleepless  night. 

Before  long  Monica  would  have  my  letter.  She  would  know  — 
if  she  could  have  doubted  —  that  if  I  had  loved  her  at  first,  I 
worshipped  her  now.  She  would  know  why  we  had  not  followed 
more  closely  yesterday;  and  why  —  unless  Carmona  chose  to 
accept  our  help  again  —  we  would  go  on  before  the  grey  car  to- 
day. She  would  know  also  that  my  most  earnest  hope  was  to  take 
her  away,  out  of  the  reach  of  harm. 

I  was  dressed,  and  had  had  my  coffee  and  hard,  fat  roll  of 
Spanish  bread,  by  half-past  seven,  as  I  was  sure  Ropes  would  be 
wanting  to  see  me.  I  would  not  have  disturbed  Dick,  who  slept 
in  a  room  across  the  patio,  but  I  found  him  in  the  dining-room, 
wrestling  with  a  glass  of  thick  chocolate  and  a  finger-shaped 
sweet  biscuit.  "  I'm  trying  to  like  Spanish  customs,"  said  he. 

186 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  187 

I  laughed. 

"  Because,  if  I'm  going  to  carry  through  that  scheme  of  mine 
about  motor  traffic,  I  may  have  to  live  on  the  spot,  you  see." 

"  Oh ! "  said  I.  "  And  what  about  Colonel  O'Donnel's  copper 
mines  ?  Have  you  thought  of  a  means  to  persuade  him  it's  his 
duty  to  have  them  worked  ?  " 

"  In  a  way,  I  have,"  Dick  answered  dryly.  "  An  indirect  sort  of 
way.  What  about  our  gasoline  ?  Heard  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  No.  I'm  going  to  find  Ropes." 

"  Rather  a  sell  for  Carmona,  if  he  did  order  our  bidons  pricked, 
to  feel  it's  his  fault  if  we're  held  up  as  long  as  he  is." 

"  There's  Ropes  in  the  patio."  I  said.  "  I'll  go  and  interview 
him." 

"What  news?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  did  what  the  landlord  said  last  night,  and  had  a 
try  for  moto-naphtha  —  as  they  call  it  here  —  at  the  chemist's." 

"Did  they  have  any?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  they  had  some.  As  much  as  a  pint  apiece,  in  the 
two  shops.  They  wanted  to  sell  it  by  the  ounce." 

Dick  and  I  laughed,  though  my  mirth  was  not  care-free.  I  had 
visions  of  being  stuck  at  this  place  until  Ropes  made  a  journey 
to  Madrid  and  back,  Carmona's  car  slipping  away  long  before 
we  were  ready. 

"  I  was  afraid  it  was  hopeless  to  look  for  petrol  here,"  I  said, 
striving  for  resignation,  even  though  I  saw  Mariquita  going  up- 
stairs with  two  battered  tins  of  hot  water. 

"  Not  yet,  sir.  A  man  who  heard  me  asking  for  moto-naphtha 
at  the  chemist's,  advised  me  to  try  the  cemetery." 

"  The  cemetery  ?  You  misunderstood  the  word." 

"  No,  sir;  it  was  cemetery.  And  what's  more,  he  said  the  Mayor 
keeps  it  there  to  kill  lobsters." 

This  statement,  delivered  somewhat  nervously,  was  received 
with  derision. 

"  The  fellow  was  stuffing  you,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  sir." 


188  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  Then  he's  mad,"  I  insisted.  "  Fishing  for  lobsters  with  moto- 
naphtha  in  a  cemetery  at  Manzanares  is  a  story  Baron  Munc- 
hausen  would  have  thought  twice  about  before  telling." 

"  Langostas  does  mean  langouste  —  or  lobsters,  I  suppose, 
sir  ?  "  asked  Ropes. 

"Ye  —  es,"  I  answered  thoughtfully.  Then  lightning  flashed 
across  the  darkness  of  my  mind.  "  It  means  locusts  as  well,"  said 
I.  "They  use  petrol  to  kill  locusts,  and  for  some  reason  best 
known  to  themselves  keep  it  at  the  cemetery.  We'll  go,  Ropes, 
and  persuade  them  to  sell  us  more  than  an  ounce." 

"  Right,  sir.  At  once  ?  " 

"  In  a  moment,"  said  I. 

Mariquita,  empty-handed,  was  coming  downstairs.  I  waylaid 
her,  under  that  portion  of  the  balcony  hidden  from  the  window 
of  Lady  Vale-Avon's  room. 

"  Did  you  deliver  the  letter  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes,  senor." 

"  To  the  young  lady  herself  ?  " 

"  To  herself.  But  I  must  tell  you  what  worries  me,  senor.  As 
I  was  leaving  the  outer  room,  I  heard  a  sound  like  a  cry  of 
distress,  from  the  inner  room.  I  looked  back,  and  Her  Majesty 
the  mother  had  gone  in.  That  is  all  I  know.  I  could  do  nothing, 
whatever  had  happened,  and  I  felt  it  would  be  well  to  escape 
before  I  could  be  questioned." 

"  What  do  you  think  happened  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell,  senor  ?  Unless  the  terrible  lady  snatched  your 
letter  from  the  angel." 

"  At  least,  I  hope  the  angel  had  had  time  to  read  it." 

"I  do  not  know,  senorito.  There  was  not  much  time;  but  she 
might  have  been  quick;  and  if  the  letter  was  not  long,  there  is 
still  hope." 

This  was  poor  comfort.  All  my  joyous  anticipations  dashed, 
I  tried  to  think  of  some  way  of  finding  out  whether  Monica  had 
read  my  letter,  and  whether  there  were  any  way  of  smuggling 
another  to  her. 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  189 

The  note  had  been  written  in  such  haste,  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  had  said.  No  name  had  been  signed;  nevertheless,  if  Lady 
Vale- A  von  read  what  I  had  written,  she  would  say  to  herself, 
"  It  is  not  Cristobal  O'Donnel  who  says  these  things,  but  a  more 
dangerous  man."  If  she  had  the  letter,  she  could  show  it  to 
Carmona;  but,  as  I  thought  the  matter  over,  I  decided  that  it 
was  unlikely  she  would  do  this. 

Spaniards,  especially  Spaniards  with  Moorish  blood  in  their 
veins,  do  not  like  to  think  girls  they  love  capable  of  carrying  on 
secret  correspondence  with  other  men ;  and  I  imagined  that  Lady 
Vale-Avon  was  a  woman  to  guess  this.  Already  Carmona  knew 
that  Lady  Monica  was  interested  in  someone  else,  or  had  a 
girlish  fancy  for  him,  which  might  or  might  not  have  been  fright- 
ened away.  But  his  desire  for  her  would  not  be  whetted  by  the 
fact  that  she  was  receiving  letters  from  that  someone  else,  per- 
haps sending  them  to  him;  and  it  struck  me  that  Lady  Vale-Avon 
would  conceal  the  correspondence,  rather  than  flaunt  it  in  Car- 
mona's  face.  If  I  were  right,  then  I  was  as  safe  as  before  from 
the  Duke's  jealously ;  but,  had  Monica  read  my  letter  ? 

On  the  alert  as  her  mother  would  be  now,  I  should  find  it  more 
difficult  than  ever  to  communicate  with  the  girl.  Yet  I  could  not 
bear  to  leave  Manzanares  in  fear  of  a  misunderstanding. 

Nothing  more  could  be  done  at  the  moment,  however;  and  I 
hurried  Ropes  off  that  we  might  finish  our  errand  and  get  back 
by  the  time  that  Monica  was  down. 

It  appeared  that  the  man  who  had  volunteered  information 
about  moto-naphtha  was  waiting  to  act  as  guide.  He  was  still  at  the 
chemist's,  and  from  there  led  us  to  the  Casa  Consistorial.  At  the 
Casa  Consistorial  were  two  policemen  in  the  hall,  warming  them- 
selves over  a  hole  in  the  ground,  where  glowed  charcoal  embers. 
But  the  Mayor  had  not  arrived.  Without  him  nothing  could  be 
arranged.  Besides,  even  if  he  were  present  and  willing  to  consent, 
the  key  of  the  cemetery  was  with  the  cura,  who  might  be  any- 
where. 

Off  we  dashed  to  the  curd's  house,  and  just  in  time.  Five 


190  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

minutes  later,  and  we  might  have  had  to  wait  hours  for  him.  But 
there  he  was,  a  delightful,  white-haired  old  man,  who  would  be 
charmed  to  open  the  cemetery  for  our  worships,  since  it  was  not 
to  bury  us ;  but  he  could  make  no  move  in  that  direction  without 
the  honourable  concurrence  of  the  Mayor. 

Back,  then,  we  bustled  to  the  Casa  Consistorial,  with  the  sen- 
sation of  shuttlecocks,  played  between  battledores  at  cross  pur- 
poses. 

But  at  last  the  second  battledore  was  ready  to  send  us  in  the 
right  direction.  The  Mayor,  a  young  man,  who  looked  like  a 
lawyer  in  tall  hat  and  frock-coat,  was  as  polite  as  only  a  Spaniard 
can  be.  He  put  himself,  and  his  house,  and  Manzanares  at  our 
service.  It  was  something  like  being  given  the  freedom  of  Lon- 
don ;  and  what  was  more  to  the  point  than  anything  else,  he  offer- 
ed us  as  much  moto-naphtha  as  the  town  possessed,  at  any  price 
we  pleased  to  pay. 

The  question  was,  how  much  did  the  town  possess;  a  single 
quart,  or  a  hundred  gallons  ?  The  Mayor  himself  was  not  sure, 
so  we  rattled  off  in  an  ancient  "  simon  "  to  the  cemetery  to  find 
out;  and  luckily  were  able  to  carry  away  all  we  were  likely  to 
need  for  the  next  two  days,  while  leaving  some  for  the  locusts. 
But  between  the  Casa  Consistorial,  the  house  of  the  cura,  the 
distant  cemetery,  and  the  drive  back  to  our  stable-garage,  it  had 
taken  us  nearly  three  hours  to  achieve  our  end.  Then  there  was 
a  little  lingering  with  the  car,  to  make  sure  that  all  was  well  and 
no  more  tricks  had  been  played ;  and  the  walk  back  to  the  fonda 
exhausted  the  last  of  my  patience.  I  had  not  expected  to  be  gone 
more  than  an  hour,  and  I  had  been  gone  three.  Meanwhile,  I 
said  to  myself,  almost  anything  might  have  happened.  My  idea 
had  been  to  get  back  by  the  time  that  Monica  was  dressed,  and 
now,  for  all  I  could  tell,  she  might  have  gone. 

Dick  laughed  at  this  suggestion,  for,  said  he,  Carmona's  chauf- 
feur was  not  a  worker  of  miracles  except,  perhaps,  on  other  men's 
cars;  and  he  could  not  have  got  his  master's  in  order  and  ready 
to  start.  His  arguments  were  reasonable;  nevertheless,  like  many 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  191 

other  plausible  deductions,  they  were  wrong;  for  the  first  news 
we  heard  at  the  hotel  was  that  the  grey  automobile  had  left  nearly 
an  hour  before.  The  chauffeur,  it  seemed,  had  been  up  all  night 
working,  and  had  had  assistance  in  the  early  morning  at  a 
machine-shop.  The  injuries  had  been  patched  up,  and  the  car 
was  expecjed  to  get  on  either  to  Andujar,  or  Linares  if  a  certain 
bridge  had  been  finished. 

After  all,  this  was  not  as  bad  as  if  we  had  made  no  promise  to 
the  Duchess.  We  were  bound  not  to  lie  in  wait  for,  or  closely 
follow,  her  son's  car;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  "luck  of  the 
Dream-Book,"  Carmona  and  his  party  would  have  been  far 
away  last  night  when  we  arrived  at  Manzanares.  Had  I  not  been 
tortured  by  doubts  about  the  fate  of  my  letter,  I  might  have  been 
philosopher  enough  to  say :  "  Patience,  until  Seville ! " 

As  it  was,  patience  was  the  last  virtue  I  could  cultivate;  and 
for  what  remained  of  that  day,  I  was  unable  to  find  the  smallest 
pleasure  in  motoring. 

Again  we  were  on  the  highroad  between  Madrid  and  Seville; 
yet  the  waving  ruts  and  ridges  of  hardened  mud  were  sprinkled 
with  a  green  glaze  of  grass,  as  if  in  treacherous  attempt  at  con- 
cealment. Dust  curled  behind  us  like  smoke,  creeping  under  the 
tarpaulin  that  covered  our  luggage  on  the  roof,  and  into  our  suit- 
cases, powdering  our  clothing  like  fine  white  sugar. 

Despite  the  good  springs  and  deep  cushions  of  the  car,  Pilar's 
light  body  danced  up  and  down,  as  Dick  said,  like  a  bit  of  Ameri- 
can popcorn  over  a  hot  fire ;  and  our  two  guests,  who  had  thought 
themselves  motor  enthusiasts,  did  not  respond  ardently  to  Dick's 
forced  praises  of  the  sport. 

How  glorious,  said  he  (every  other  word  emphasized  with  a 
bump),  how  glorious  not  to  be  bound  down  to  the  fixed  and  in- 
convenient hours  of  trains.  To  stop  where  and  when  you  like; 
to  start  on  again  when  you  choose;  never  to  have  your  view  of  the 
choicest  bit  of  scenery  blotted  out  in  a  tunnel ;  to  be  grimed  by  no 
railway  smoke ;  always  to  feel  your  face  fanned  by  a  fresh  breeze, 
tingling  with  ozone;  to  read  —  if  you  had  the  seeing  eye  —  the 


192  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

whole  life  of  the  country  in  writing  on  the  road;  the  tracks  of 
heavy  carts ;  the  delicate  prints  of  donkey's  feet,  trotting  to  mar- 
ket laden  with  wine  or  fruit;  the  tracing  of  diligence  wheels,  or 
old-fashioned  carriages  on  their  way  to  a  bull- fight;  the  footmarks 
of  peasants  economically  carrying  their  shoes  over  their  shoul- 
ders; the  clover-like  imprint  of  sheeps'  little  hoofs,  and  goats'; 
the  pads  of  shepherd  dogs.  To  flash  through  kinematographic 
glimpses  of  vineland  and  oliveland,  and  graceful  blue  mountain 
shapes ;  to  see  strange  villages  of  whose  existence  you  would  never 
know  when  plodding  along  by  train;  to  fly  from  one  living  re- 
minder of  Don  Quixote  to  another,  as  we  were  doing  to-day  (had 
we  not  seen  the  inn  where  he  was  knighted  ?)  —  Bang !  Never 
before  can  I  remember  hailing  with  delight  the  pistol-like  report 
which  can  mean  but  one  thing ;  the  bursting  of  a  tyre.  But  I  was 
enchanted  that  Dick's  eloquence  should  be  interrupted. 

We  had  jolted  through  wine-making  Valdepenas,  where  the 
red  juice  of  the  grape  seems  to  spout  from  a  grey  valley  of  stones ; 
we  had  passed,  in  the  quaint  market-place,  the  posada  which 
Don  Quixote  knew;  we  had  bounced  through  Santa  Cruz  de 
Mudela,  with  its  fine  old  fifteenth  century  church,  and  had  seen 
its  famous  and  gaily  coloured  garters  exposed  for  sale  in  the 
shops ;  and  now  we  were  far  from  towns  or  villages,  out  in  the 
country. 

Luckily,  everybody  was  ready  for  lunch,  and  Pilar  and  the 
Cherub  had  had  the  forethought  to  order  things  which  would 
not  have  occurred  to  Dick  or  me.  Not  far  away,  on  the  crest  of  a 
hill-billow,  stood  a  road-mender's  house,  with  an  outside,  adobe 
oven  like  a  huge  beehive.  We  crawled  to  it,  travelling  on  the 
collapsed  tyre,  and  were  served  by  a  delightful  brown  family; 
served  as  if  we  had  been  the  King  and  his  suite  who  had  lunched 
(so  said  the  brown  family)  on  that  spot  a  few  weeks  ago.  Out 
came  the  chairs  which  the  King  and  his  friends  had  sat  in,  plates 
and  glasses  from  which  the  King  and  his  friends  had  drunk ;  and 
the  simple  people  derived  a  childlike  pleasure  from  dwelling  on 
the  episode. 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  193 

As  before,  the  news  efour  presence  seemed  to  flash  through 
the  air  and  bring,  in  the  same  mysterious  way,  an  audience  out  of 
empty  space.  Pilar  said  that  the  people  who  came  were  in  reality 
wild  birds,  seen  by  our  sophisticated  eyes  in  the  form  of  human 
beings;  and  as  if  they  had  been  wild  birds,  we  coaxed  them,  till 
they  trusted  us  and  fed  with  us,  drinking  from  our  wineskin  the 
blood  of  the  Spanish  grape,  almost  innocent  of  alcohol.  The  soft 
Spanish  language,  as  it  fell  from  their  lips,  was  rich  as  the  taste 
of  that  Spanish  wine  on  the  tongue,  and  stirred  in  my  heart  a 
pride  of  kinsmanship. 

While  we  others  lunched,  Ropes  jacked  up  the  Gloria  and 
changed  the  inner  tube,  pausing  now  and  then  to  munch  a  sand- 
wich or  swallow  a  draught  of  wine  with  an, unruffled  air  charac- 
teristic of  him.  When  the  road-mender  mentioned  that  four  ban- 
didos  had  been  captured  in  the  morning  by  the  civil  guard,  on 
the  road  along  which  we  had  passed,  his  expression  did  not 
change  by  the  twitching  of  a  muscle.  Indeed,  he  looked  equal  to 
disposing  of  half  a  dozen  brigands  without  the  aid  of  a  single 
guardia  civile. 

After  forty  minutes  by  the  wayside,  we  set  off  to  penetrate 
farther  into  that  melancholy  country  which  Cervantes  loved,  and 
almost  at  once  were  in  the  Venta  de  Cordenas,  that  wide  and 
stony  waste  where  Don  Quixote  rode  to  do  his  penance.  The 
gayest  spirits  must  have  been  dashed  by  the  gloom  of  the  knight's 
self-imposed  prison,  and  mine  were  not  improved.  I  had  a  dis- 
quieting impression  that  Monica's  voice,  calling  an  appeal,  came 
echoing  from  the  mountain  walls. 

Of  course,  there  was  nothing  in  it,  except  superstitious  non- 
sense of  which  I  ought  to  be  ashamed ;  yet  I  could  not  shut  my 
ears  to  her  voice,  which  seemed  to  cry  the  words  her  fingers  once 
had  written :  "  Don't  desert  me !  Don't  leave  me  alone !  " 

Always  the  echo  followed,  as  the  car  mounted  higher  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Sierra  Morena,  and  such  glories  of  Spain  opened 
out  before  our  eyes  as  we  had  not  seen  yet,  even  in  the  splendid 
Gorge  of  Pancorbo. 


194  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Crest  above  crest,  great  chains  of  mountains  cut  the  smooth 
sapphire  of  the  sky ;  and  as  we  serpentined  into  their  closer  grasp, 
each  loop  of  the  Alpine  road  gave  a  new  and  more  fantastic 
combination  of  rock  and  stream.  The  car  was  boring  into 
a  gorge  of  astounding  sublimity,  a  hammer-stroke  of 
Vulcan  which  had  cleft  the  mountain  and  left  behind  chips 
of  copper,  of  gold,  of  silver,  and  a  rich  sprinkling  of  precious 
gems. 

As  the  god's  hammer  fell,  out  of  the  ruin  it  made  were  shaped 
marvels  of  form;  Olympian  castles  and  giant  statues,  images  of 
such  savage  creatures  as  roamed  devastating  the  earth  in  days 
when  man  was  in  his  childhood. 

Even  the  calm  countenance  of  Ropes  was  transfigured  by  this 
burst  of  splendour.  "  Makes  you  forget  that  roads  can  be  bad, 
and  tyres  go  wrong,  doesn't  it,  sir  ?  "  he  said  to  me.  "  I  could  drive 
through  places  like  these,  day  and  night  on  end,  without  food  or 
drink,  never  knowing  if  I  was  done  up." 

And  praise  from  a  chauffeur  is  praise  indeed ! 

We  were  in  the  defile  of  Despenaperros,  the  most  terrific  and, 
at  the  same  time,  the  noblest  gorge  of  Spain ;  and  I  should  have 
known  it  from  stories  told  by  my  father,  who  had  once  fought 
with  bandoleros  upon  this  very  road.  Down  into  the  river  that 
tossed  up  white  plumes  of  foam  far  below,  he  had  flung  one  man, 
while  another  fired  shot  after  shot  from  his  carbine,  screened 
behind  a  rock  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine,  scarcely  a  bis- 
cuit-throw away. 

Long  before,  too,  history  had  been  made  in  this  mountain 
passage  whose  walls  had  rung  with  wilder  sounds  than  the  scream- 
ing of  our  siren.  The  rival  battle-cries  of  Moor  and  Spaniard  had 
echoed  among  the  rocks,  and  Christian  blood  and  pagan  had 
mingled  in  the  white  spume  of  the  river. 

I  thought  of  these  things,  as  I  looked  down  into  the  silent 
depths  of  the  gulf,  and  saw  the  sparkling  veins  of  granite,  and 
purple  masses  of  slate  gleam  with  volcanic  life  and  colour.  But 
still  I  heard  the  haunting  echo  of  Monica's  voice,  in  the  solitude 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  195 

through  which  she  must  lately  have  passed,  perhaps  leaving 
some  message,  if  I  could  only  know. 

Was  it  merely  a  fantastic  twist  of  my  nerves,  or  was  her  spirit 
calling,  trying  to  majke  itself  heard  and  understood  ? 

It  was  Filar  who  broke  the  spell  by  a  sudden  clapping  of  her 
hands.  "  Andalucia!  dear  Andalucia!"  she  cried;  and  each  one 
of  us,  subdued  and  silenced  by  the  majesty  of  the  scene,  started 
as  if  waking  from  sleep. 

She  was  pointing  at  a  stone  obelisk,  looking  at  which  her  father 
smiled  and  raised  his  hat. 

"No  more  cold,"  said  he;  "no  more  winds  to  nip  our  noses. 
Here's  the  dividing  line  between  the  north  countries  and  the 
country  of  the  sun." 

Then,  as  if  the  obelisk  had  been  the  finger  of  some  genie  in- 
voking a  magic  change,  an  enchantment  blurred  the  stern  feat- 
ures of  the  landscape.  It  was  as  though  the  fierce  face  of  an  angry 
giant  had  been  transformed  into  that  of  a  beautiful,  laughing 
woman  with  the  sun  in  her  eyes. 

The  defile  opened  when  we  had  slipped  past  a  half-hidden 
mountain  hamlet  or  two;  widened  into  a  valley  bright  with  colour 
as  the  jewels  on  the  spread  tail  of  a  peacock ;  and  boat-like,  the 
car  rode  an  undulating  sea  of  green  and  azure  and  gold,  that 
scintillated  as  if  a  spray  of  diamonds  were  tossed  into  air  with 
the  speed  of  our  going. 

At  Santa  Elena  we  were  in  a  Spain  I  had  not  seen.  At  La  Caro- 
lina we  burst  into  a  world  fair  and  fertile  as  the  Garden  of  Eden ; 
and  I  remembered  the  Moorish  legend  that  Heaven  is  built  on 
the  blue  that  hangs  over  Andalucia. 

Hedges  of  aloe  brandished  zincen  swords  and  darts;  cacti 
sprawled  and  leered  along  the  roadside;  set  in  the  vivid  green  of 
ripening  grain,  olive  groves  seemed  carved  from  jade;  or  the  bare 
rosy  shoulders  of  sloping  hillsides  turned  by  contrast  their  pale 
tints  to  tarnished  silver.  Vines  with  young  gold  leaves  trailed  the 
purple  earth;  avenues  of  acacias  dripped  perfumes;  and  as  the 
sun  leaned  towards  the  west,  the  quivering  pink  light  on  violet 


196  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

mountains  gave  to  Andalucia  the  vivid,  almost  violent  colouring 
one  sees  in  sensational  posters. 

Each  girl  we  passed  wore  a  bright  flower  shining  star-like 
through  the  black  cloud  of  her  hair.  The  men  had  discarded  the 
fur-trimmed  Louis  XI  caps  for  the  broad-brimmed,  grey  som- 
breros de  Cordoba,  and  the  horses  or  mules  were  harnessed 
with  gay  splashes  of  red  and  blue  colour,  and  bobbing  tassels. 

We  had  talked  of  Linares,  the  lead-mining  town,  as  a  halting- 
place  for  the  night,  as  we  were  pledged  not  to  track  down  the 
Lecomte;  and  on  the  outskirts  of  Bailen,  as  twilight  fell,  the 
Gloria  was  brought  to  a  sudden  stop  in  the  midst  of  a  pulsating 
crowd,  that  we  might  ask  the  way. 

If  we  aroused  their  curiosity,  they  piqued  us  to  the  same  emo- 
tion, for  most  of  the  men,  and  there  were  hundreds,  not  only 
wore  upon  their  legs  a  kind  of  divided  pinafore,  but  carried  on 
their  backs  an  apparatus  which  would  have  excited  wonder  in 
any  other  than  this  fairy  country. 

The  machine  reminded  me  at  first  glance  of  a  fire-extinguisher; 
then  of  some  appliance  used  by  miners  to  hold  a  supply  of  oxy- 
gen. One  part  of  me  wished  to  know  what  the  instrument  was; 
the  other  preferred  to  remain  in  ignorance,  lest  the  explanation 
should  prove  too  commonplace.  But  Waring  had  all  my  curiosity, 
and  none  of  my  scruples;  so  he  asked  a  question  with  a  gesture 
more  intelligible  than  his  Spanish;  and  just  as  I  had  feared,  the 
weird  union  of  reservoirs  and  nozzles  was  no  more  than  a  con- 
trivance for  spraying  vines  to  protect  them  from  phylloxera. 

As  always,  we  brought  the  fascinations  of  the  Cherub  to  bear 
upon  the  crowd,  as  one  trains  the  latest  gun  upon  the  enemy ; 
and  his  crooning  brought  out  facts  which  made  Dick  think  it 
high  time  he  got  things  into  shape,  and  his  motor  service  to  run- 
ning. It  seemed  that  once  upon  a  time  a  good  road  had  been  made 
from  Bailen  to  Linares,  but  the  road  was  crossed  by  a  river;  and 
when  the  masonry  supports  for  a  bridge  had  been  built,  it  turned 
out  that  girders  had  been  forgotten.  Somehow,  it  was  nobody's 
place  to  jog  anybody  else's  memory,  and  there  the  matter  had 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  197 

ended,  so  long  ago  that  grass  and  flowers  had  sprouted  among 
the  futile  stones. 

It  appeared  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  the  people 
of  Bailen,  who  were  accustomed  to  ford  the  river,  when  they 
wanted  to  cross,  with  norses;  but  though  the  weather  had  been 
dry  for  the  last  few  days,  the  recent  torrents  which  had  fallen  in 
the  mountains,  still  swelled  the  volume  of  water  to  such  a  height 
that  it  might  "  put  out  the  fire  in  the  automobile." 

I  was  glad  to  hear  this,  because  if  it  would  put  out  our  fire,  it 
would  put  out  Carmona's;  and  as  he  was  prudent  in  matters 
concerning  his  car,  he  would  probably  have  stopped-at  Andujar; 
thus  fate  would  again  bring  me  near  to  Monica,  despite  our 
promise. 

The  main  reason  for  going  to  Linares  was  because  the  Cherub 
believed  there  was  a  fair  hotel,  built  to  accommodate  Englishmen 
collected  for  the  lead -mining ;  therefore  it  was  without  regret  that 
we  turned  the  Gloria  to  follow  the  carretera  to  Cordoba. 

Our  advisers  ran  after  us  with  a  warning  to  avoid  the  rough 
cobbles  of  Bailen  by  taking  the  ronda  which  skirts  the  town  on 
its  left.  So  slowly,  in  dusk  that  blossomed  blue  as  the  myrtle 
flower,  we  passed  round  outside  the  town,  regained  the  high  road, 
leaping  at  speed  into  a  world  of  wide,  silvery  spaces  and  mystery 
of  violet  hollows,  diving  into  the  deep  valley  of  the  swollen  river, 
and  rejoicing  in  a  hard  surface  of  good  macadam  for  fifteen  miles 
or  more. 

Thus  we  arrived  at  Andujar,  the  lights  of  our  great  acetylene 
lamps  (lit  before  the  sky  turned  from  opal  to  amethyst)  prying 
into  dark  doorways  and  windows  as  Rontgen  rays  pry  through 
flesh  to  bone. 

In  the  white  glare,  pretty  girls  in  doorways  looked  like  actresses 
in  a  costume  play,  waiting  in  the  wings  to  "go  on."  But  no  yells 
of  a  stage  mob  ever  were  so  realistic  as  those  of  the  unrehearsed 
band  who  howled  over  my  poor  Gloria  as  she  deposited 
her  passengers  at  the  fonda ;  and  Ropes  and  I  pushed  her 
through  a  wall  of  human  beings  to  a  stable-garage,  where  her 


198  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

flywheel  gushed  a  protest  of  fiery  sparks  on  the  high  stone  step 
of  entrance. 

The  fonda  was  passable ;  but  Carmona  and  his  party  were  not 
there;  neither  were  they  anywhere  else  in  Andujar,  as  we  made 
it  our  business  to  discover;  and  we  guessed  that  the  grey  car  must 
after  all  have  ventured  to  Linares. 

As  it  had  vanished,  we  were  free  to  start  when  we  chose  next 
morning.  So  we  chose  an  early  hour,  flying  over  good  roads 
through  a  land  embroidered  with  the  scarlet  of  poppies,  the  blue 
of  gentian,  the  pink  of  clover,  and  gold  of  buttercups,  stitched  in 
with  the  silver  of  little  running  streams. 

" '  Give  us  bread  and  give  us  bulls,'  is  the  cry  of  this  country," 
said  the  Cherub,  greeting  with  joyous  glances  each  feature  of  his 
loved  Andalucia. 

"It  sounds  like  a  beef  sandwich,"  Dick  reflected  aloud;  but 
Pilar  reproached  him  for  flippancy.  "You  mustn't  make  jokes 
about  bread  in  Andalucia!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  it's  called  a 
sin  ever  to  throw  away  a  crumb.  Because  it's  the  gift  of  Heaven, 
if  you  drop  a  bit  you  must  pick  it  up  and  apologize  by  kissing  it." 

"  Why  not  eat  it  instead  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  You  can  do  that  afterwards.  And  if  bread's  made  with  holes 
in  it,  you  must  stand  the  holey  side  up,  because  the  spirit  of  God 
enters  through  the  holes  to  bless  you." 

"  I  thought  only  olives  were  sacred  in  Andalucia,"  said  Dick, 
staring  away  over  enormous  tracts  of  the  silver-grey  trees  grow- 
ing out  of  copper  soil,  waving  as  far  as  the  eye  could  follow,  to 
the  floating  line  of  ethereal  blue  mountains. 

"  They're  sacred,  too,"  assented  Pilar.  "  Did  you  know,  in  the 
old  days  they  used  to  be  sold  only  for  gold,  gold  carried  on  mule 
back  in  great  bags,  and  exchanged  on  the  spot,  for  the  trees  — 
so  many  for  so  much  ?  We  have  olives  at  our  place,  and  they're 
gathered  in  such  a  nice  old-fashioned  way;  papa  doesn't  care  for 
new  ways,  even  if  they  make  a  little  more  money.  It's  pretty  to 
watch.  I  should  like  you  to  see  it,  only  —  Senor  Waring  doesn't 
like  old-fashioned  things." 


THE  GOODWILL  OF  MARIQUITA  199 

"  I  like  making  the  '  little  more  money,'  I'm  afraid,"  Dick  con- 
fessed. 

"  Sometimes  I  like  money  too  —  when  I  want  to  buy  anything. 
At  other  times  I  don't  care.  Lately  I've  been  saving  up.  I've  got 
one  thousand  nine  hundred  pesetas." 

"  Good  gracious ! "  laughed  Dick,  "  are  you  going  to  buy  a  bull- 
farm  with  such  a  gigantic  sum  ?  " 

"  Funny  you  should  have  said  that.  I'm  going  to  buy  one  bull. 
He's  the  only  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Cannona's  that  I  want, 
and  I  want  him  so  much  that  I've  sacrificed  oh,  —  I  can't  re- 
member how  many  Paris  hats,  and  shoes,  and  silk  petticoats, 
and  pretty  dresses  to  get  him,  with  all  my  own  money !  The  worst 
of  it  is,  he'll  never  know  about  the  hats  and  things." 

Dick  was  looking  interested  now. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  goodness  will  you  do  with  him  when  you 
get  him  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Save  him,"  said  the  girl. 

"From  what?" 

"  From  the  bull-ring.  Oh,  he's  a  faro  bravo,  is  Vivillo,  a  heart 
of  gold.  Not  the  most  famous  torero  in  Spain  shall  pierce  it.  I've 
loved  him  for  four  years,  since  he  was  a  baby  at  his  mother's  side, 
and  Rafael  Calmenare  used  to  take  me  to  visit  him;  loved  him 
better  even  than  Corcito,  and  all  this  time  T've  been  saving  up  to 
buy  him  before  he's  of  the  age  for  a  corrida.  Now  I've  enough,  or 
nearly,  and  there  aren't  many  weeks  to  waste,  for  soon  he'll  be 
five;  and  already  he  has  the  strength  and  courage  of  three  bulls, 
my  Vivillo !  I  long  to  see  him  again  —  long  for  the  day  when  I 
can  put  my  arms  round  his  great  neck,  and  say,  '  Hermanito, 
you're  mine!'" 

"  Your  arms  round  his  neck ! "  gasped  Dick.  "  A  fighting  bull ! 
You're  joking.  Say  you  mean  an  Irish  bull,  and  put  me  out  of 
misery." 

"  He's  a  true  Spanish  grandee  of  a  bull,  and  my  arms  have  been 
round  his  neck  often,"  said  Pilarcita. 

"Then  he  can't  be  very  fierce." 


200  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  He  can  be  terrible.  He  has  nearly  killed  two  men  —  strangers 
who  teased  him,  so  he  meant  no  harm,  poor  darling!  and  they 
daren't  let  any  except  black  horses  come  near  him.  No  Muira 
bull  is  more  savage  than  he  if  he's  roused.  You  know,  the  Duke 
of  Carmona's  bulls  are  as  celebrated  as  the  Muiras  themselves. 
But  Vivillo  has  always  loved  me,  and  one  or  two  others  —  me 
best,  though  —  and  he'll  eat  out  of  my  hand,  the  great  brown 
velvet  beast,  like  a  kitten." 

"  How  long  since  he's  seen  you  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Six  weeks." 

"  I  wouldn't  trust  his  memory." 

"  I  trust  it  as  I  would  my  brother's.  You  shall  see  me  petting 
him." 

"  Great  Scott !  you  won't  let  her  risk  her  life  with  this  wild  beast, 
will  you,  Colonel  O'Donnel  ?  "  Dick  cried  out. 

But  the  Cherub  smiled  his  placid  smile. 

"Don  Cipriano  calls  her  Una,  because  she  can  tame  wild 
beasts,"  said  he. 

Dick's  face  became  almost  too  expressive.  If  he  did  not  want 
Pilar's  eyes  to  read  his  every  emotion,  I  thought  he  would  be  wiser 
to  put  on  his  motor-mask. 


XXV 

WHAT  CORDOBA  LACKED 

THROUGH  a  flowery  field  of  cloth-of-gold  we  came, 
while  the  afternoon  was  young,  inta  Cordoba  — 
"  Kartubathe  Important,"  lying  like  a  grave  entombing 
its  dead  glory,  prone  at  the  foot  of  tombstone  mountains. 

After  the  dazzle  of  wild-flowers  shining  in  the  sun,  and  the 
ozone  of  country  breezes,  a  sudden  entrance  into  the  network  of 
narrow  streets  was  like  being  thrown,  without  a  clue,  into  the 
Minotaur's  dark  labyrinth. 

I  had  thought  that  no  town  could  have  narrower  streets  than 
Toledo;  but  the  streets  of  Cordoba  were  mere  slits  between 
house-walls.  As  we  scraped  through  on  the  car,  Dick  likened  the 
town  to  a  huge  white  cake  divided  into  slices  by  a  sharp  knife, 
but  left  in  shape  with  only  one  or  two  pieces  pulled  out  to  loosen 
the  mass. 

Still,  the  stone-paved  slits  contrived  to  make  pictures;  with 
here  and  there  a  pair  of  splendid  Moorish  doors,  a  row  of  ancient 
eastern-patterned  windows,  or  a  fairy  glimpse  of  a  sunlit  patio 
beyond  a  tunnel  of  shadow ;  a  fountain  spraying  jewels,  a  waving 
of  palms  and  glow  of  hanging  roses. 

"  She's  sure  to  be  here,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  we  stopped  at  last 
before  the  principal  hotel.  "  Since  the  journey's  supposed  to  be  a 
pleasure  trip,  Carmona's  bound  to  give  his  guests  time  to  see  the 
sights  of  Cordoba." 

But  nothing  was  known  of  the  Duke  and  his  party  at  the  hotel, 
although  there  was  a  rumour  that  an  automobile  had  passed 
through  the  town  in  the  morning. 

201 


202  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  Cherub,  consulted,  was  of  opinion  that  if  Carmona's  car 
had  come,  it  must  have  remained. 

"There'd  be  nowhere  for  them  to  stop  afterwards  short  of 
Seville,"  he  said,  "  unless  Carmona,  and  that's  near  Seville.  They 
must  be  lurking  in  Cordoba  —  perhaps  at  the  Marques  de  Villa- 
blanca's,  who's  a  friend  of  the  Duke's.  We  shall  come  across  our 
lovely  little  lady  presently,  if  we  get  about  in  the  town ;  in  the 
Paseo  del  Gran  Capitan,  or  the  Patio  de  los  Naranjos,  or  the 
cathedral,  or  by  the  ruins  of  the  Alcazar." 

"Besides,  I  thought  you'd  made  up  your  mind  not  to  worry 
till  we  got  to  Seville,"  said  Dick. 

"  So  I  had,"  I  answered.  "  But  I  have  a  feeling  as  if  something 
had  gone  wrong." 

"  Any  reason  for  the  feeling  —  except  the  feeling  itself  ?  "  asked 
Dick. 

I  shook  my  head,  not  caring  to  mention  the  letter  that  might 
have  gone  astray.  "  Nothing  I  can  define." 

"Then  I  guess  it's  all  right,  and  you're  developing  nerves." 

"  I  know  just  how  he  feels,"  said  Pilar,  with  a  reproachful  look 
at  Dick,  with  whom  she  was  at  odds  since  the  episode  of  the  bull. 
"  There  was  an  expression  in  Lady  Monica's  eyes,  wasn't  there, 
at  Manzanares,  as  if  she  were  sad?  Oh,  I  saw  it;  and  they 
wouldn't  let  me  get  within  whispering  distance  of  her  afterwards, 
or  I  should  have  found  out  what  it  meant.  I  had  the  idea  that 
they  were  particularly  anxious  to  keep  me  away,  and  I  won- 
dered if  there  were  any  new  reason.  I'm  not  surprised  that  Don 
Ramon  is  worried.  One  can  see  that  Senor  Waring's  never  been 
in  love ! " 

"Oh,  haven't  I?"  exclaimed  Dick;  which,  of  course  made 
matters  worse;  and  to  mend  them,  he  went  on  blundering. 
"  What  do  you  know  about  the  symptoms  ?  " 

"  Girls  are  born  knowing  things  it  takes  men  years  to  learn," 
said  Pilar. 

It  did  not  allay  my  anxiety  that  she  should  have  noticed  what 
I  had  noticed.  But  I  clung  to  the  Cherub's  assurance,  hoping, 


WHAT  CORDOBA  LACKED  203 

when  we  had  set  out  on  our  explorations,  to  meet  her,  to  see  her 
face  light  up  with  the  radiance  I  knew. 

But  there  were  no  strangers  save  ourselves,  and  a  few  wander- 
ing Americans  under  the  palms  and  orange  trees  of  the  pasco 
dedicated  to  the  memory  of  El  Gran  Capitan. 

We  wandered  —  Pilar  keeping  at  my  side,  and  leaving  Dick  to 
her  father  —  from  gate  to  gate  outside  the  Mosque-Cathedral 
which  once  made  Cordoba  the  Mecca  of  Europe;  gazing  up  at 
the  tremendous  mass  of  honey-coloured  masonry  rising  like  a 
vast  fortress  from  its  buttresses  of  stone;  lingering  under  the  bell- 
tower  of  the  Puerta  del  Perdon  because  Pilar  "felt  as  if  some- 
thing would  happen  there."  But  nothing  did  happen;  and  we 
went  to  face  the  blighting  of  renewed  hopes  in  the  Court  of 
Oranges,  whose  melancholy  charm  and  sensuous  perfume  was 
sad  as  the  song  of  a  nightingale  when  summer  is  dying. 

She  was  not  there ;  nor  could  we  find  her  in  the  marble  forest 
of  the  pillared  cathedral,  though,  while  Dick  and  Pilar  made  up 
their  differences  over  the  jewelled  mosaics,  I  searched  for  her. 

"  I  tell  you,  Ramon,  there's  some  satisfaction  in  feeling  that 
you're  looking  at  the  best  things  the  world's  got  to  show,"  said 
Dick,  almost  in  my  ear,  "and  there  are  lots  of  them  in  your 
country,  especially  in  Cordoba,  though  I  suppose  the  Moors 
would  weep  to  see  it  now.  But  you  don't  seem  to  be  enjoying 
them,  in  spite  of  risking  such  a  lot  to  come  where  they  are." 

I  didn't  remind  him  that  the  risk  I  ran  was  for  the  one  best 
thing  in  all  the  world,  which  was  only  temporarily  in  my  country, 
and  that  my  depression  came  because  it  was  not  at  the  moment 
visible.  But  Pilar  did  not  need  reminding,  and  in  the  way  of 
sweet  women,  tried  to  "keep  my  mind  occupied"  by  talking 
history  and  legend,  confusing  them  deliciously,  and  defending 
her  stories  of  beautiful  Egilona  and  fair  Florinda  by  saying  that, 
anyhow,  nobody  cared  whether  they  were  true  or  not.  Besides, 
what  was  history,  since  dull  people  were  continually  discover- 
ing that  none  of  the  best  bits  had  ever  happened  ? 

"  I  choose  to  believe  in  Florinda,"  she  cried,  "  and  all  the  other 


204  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

beautiful  women  who  influenced  kings,  and  made  wars,  and 
upset  countries.  Without  them  and  their  love-stories,  history 
would  be  like  faded  tapestry  without  gold  threads." 

So  Dick  ceased  to  argue,  and  in  silence  we  left  the  gem-like 
perfection  of  the  third  Mihrab,  to  wander  once  more  through  the 
wilderness  of  gleaming  columns  that  were  now  like  over-arching 
trees,  now  like  falling  fountains. 

No  dusky  vista  out  of  those  many  changing  ones  framed  the 
figure  I  longed  to  see;  and  when  we  had  left  the  cathedral  and 
climbed  to  the  gardens  and  towers  where  stood  once  the  Alcazar 
of  Gothic  and  Moorish  glories,  it  was  the  same  story  of  disap- 
pointment. Only  the  Americans  we  had  seen  in  the  paseo  were 
there,  more  interested  than  I  in  such  fragments  as  they  could 
catch  of  Pilar's  tales.  Dungeons  where  Theodofredo  had  been 
blinded,  and  Witica  the  wicked  had  paid  for  his  crimes ;  vanished 
halls  where  Rodrigo  reigned  and  loved  before  the  dark  day  be- 
side the  Guadalete  lost  the  crown  for  him  and  Christendom; 
what  did  they  hold  of  interest  since  the  garden  of  lilacs  and  roses 
which  covered  their  ruins  was  empty  of  one  Presence  ? 

When  we  had  seen  everything,  I  left  my  friends  in  the  hall  of 
the  hotel  choosing  curios  from  glass  cases,  and  went  out  again  in 
search  of  news  concerning  the  automobile  which  had  passed  in 
the  morning. 

Presumably  it  had  attracted  a  crowd,  yet  no  one  seemed  to 
know  anything  of  it  until  at  last,  just  as  I  was  giving  up  hope,  I 
met  an  old  man  who  had  seen  a  large  grey  motor-car  at  the  rail- 
way station.  A  few  minutes  later,  I  had  solved  the  mystery  of  the 
Lecomte's  disappearance.  It  had  arrived  early;  its  passengers 
had  been  conducted  round  Cordoba  in  the  smallest  possible  time 
by  Carmona;  it  had  then  been  driven  to  the  station;  and  with  its 
late  occupants  had  gone  to  Seville  by  the  same  train. 

There  might  have  been  several  motives  for  this  move.  The  car 
might  have  been  partially  disabled,  not  having  been  properly 
prepared  at  Manzanares ;  or  Carmona  might  have  determined  to 
thwart  the  destiny  which  so  far  had  kept  me  near  him.  I  was 


WHAT  CORDOBA  LACKED  205 

inclined  to  accept  the  latter  theory,  and  it  did  not  tend  to  pro- 
mote my  peace  of  mind. 

I  was  glad  to  hear,  however,  that  the  train  was  not  due  at 
Seville  until  late  that  evening.  If  we  made  an  early  start  next  day, 
it  was  not  likely  that  the  situation  could  be  much  changed  before 
I  arrived,  free  of  obligations  to  the  Duchess. 

Of  course,  said  Pilar,  before  I  had  time  to  ask,  they  would  be 
ready  to  start  early,  oh,  very  early.  It  would  be  beautiful  to  be 
in  the  country  before  the  sun  had  drunk  up  the  dew  on  the  grass, 
and  withered  the  roses  of  dawn  in  the  clouds.  There  was  no  fear 
of  cold  now  that  we  were  in  dear  Andalucia.  Yes !  we  would 
have  coffee  at  six,  and  leave  at  half-past. 

I  should  not  have  dared  suggest  such  a  trial  of  moral  courage, 
but  I  accepted  the  sacrifice ;  so  the  roses  of  morning  which  Pilar 
loved  still  bloomed  in  the  garden  of  the  sky,  and  trailed  their 
reflection  in  the  Guadalquivir,  as  we  rolled  over  the  old  bridge 
and  past  the  white,  Moorish  hills. 

A  morning  in  Paradise  could  scarcely  be  more  beautiful;  and 
the  pinky-purple  blossoms  of  the  alamo  shimmering  in  a  rosy 
mist  against  dark  cypress  trees,  or  mingling  with  the  white  lace 
of  hawthorn  was  a  colour-symphony  of  Spring. 

Dignified  country  houses  no  longer  raised  brown-tiled  roofs 
from  among  groves  of  olives;  but  an  illimitable  sea  of  waving 
downs  lay  bathed  in  the  amber  light  of  Spain.  Then,  olive  woods 
again,  with  a  foam  of  field-flowers  spraying  their  gnarled  feet, 
hedges  of  sweetbrier,  tangled  with  tall,  wild  lilacs,  and  blossom- 
ing thorn.  Beyond,  high  hills  up  which  the  Gloria  stormed  boldly, 
frightening  the  horses  of  a  troop  of  laughing  soldiers  who  rode 
without  saddles;  over  stony  roads,  mere  rough  tracks  drawn 
through  meadows,  where  bulls  grazed,  and  bellowed  at  the  auto- 
mobile; thus  to  a  village  which  first  showed  itself  like  a  white 
crown  on  a  hilltop,  and  proved  to  be  inhabited  by  women  and 
children  of  surpassing  beauty.  Never  were  such  eyes  as  those 
which  looked  from  the  faces  in  the  quick-gathering  crowd ;  eyes 
like  black  wells  with  fallen  stars  in  their  depths. 


206  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Peasant  houses  by  the  wayside  had  thatched  roofs,  grey  and 
glistening  as  silver  plush;  and  outside  ovens  like  huge  cups  turned 
upside  down.  The  fields  were  gay  with  flowers ;  the  distance  float- 
ed in  waves  of  azure  gauze  which  touched  the  sky. 

On  we  swept,  as  though  to  find  the  joining  place,  but  found 
only  Ecija,  the  Town  of  the  Seven  Brigands,  with  its  grand  bridge 
and  pearl-white  Moorish  mills,  in  the  yellow,  swift-running 
Genii. 

Kings  had  been  lodged  behind  those  brass-nailed  doors  and 
wrought-iron  balconies,  the  Cherub  said ;  and  malefactors  famed 
in  history  and  ballad  had  swung  from  that  tall  gallows  which 
caught  the  eye  before  Ecija's  eight  church  towers.  There  had 
been  famous  fighting,  too,  by  the  river  bank;  but  now  the  place 
slept,  dreaming  of  peace,  and  the  whirr  of  the  mill-wheels  sound- 
ed as  comforting  as  the  "  chum-chum  "  of  a  motor  that  runs  by 
night. 

So  we  flashed  out  of  the  Province  of  Cordoba  into  the  Province 
of  Seville,  and  tall,  slender  palms,  rearing  feathered  heads  among 
walnut  trees  and  oaks,  were  signposts  pointing  south.  It  was  early 
in  April,  but  the  air  was  the  air  of  an  English  June,  and  I  wonder- 
ed to  see  men  muffled  in  long  capas.  "  They  do  it  to  keep  out  the 
sun,  as  in  the  north  to  keep  out  the  wind,"  explained  Pilar;  but 
she  only  laughed  when  Dick  asked  why  they  shaved  their 
donkeys'  backs,  why  they  put  red  and  yellow  muzzles  on  their 
donkeys'  mouths,  why  they  always  carried  plaid  "  railway  rugs  " 
on  their  beasts'  backs  or  their  own,  and  why  their  trousers  and 
leggings  were  made  in  one  piece  ? 

Beyond  the  olives,  black  clumps  of  umbrella  pines  flung  ink- 
blots  against  the  sky,  and  a  purple  carpet  of  budding  heather 
was  torn  apart  to  let  the  road  pass  through.  It  was  ideal  motor- 
country,  and  Dick  recalled  with  sneers  the  sixty  horse-power 
man  in  Biarritz,  who  had  feared  the  experiment. 

"  The  way  is  to  do  what  you  want  to  do,  and  find  out  as  you  go 
along  whether  it  can  be  done  or  not,"  he  soliloquized. 

I  wondered  if  he  were  thinking  of  another  difficult  road,  not  to 


WHAT  CORDOBA  LACKED  207 

be  travelled  by  motors  —  a  road  where  perhaps  Don  Cipriano 
already  knew  the  way. 

Larks  sprang  skyward  from  beds  of  wild  flowers  as  we  fled  by, 
little  fountains  of  music;  tall  cranes  flew  out  of  screening  bushes 
beside  bright  streams;  and  blurring  the  distance  before  us,  a 
mist  of  rain  floated  like  a  veil  blown  across  the  face  of  Spring. 

In  sight  of  Carmona's  splendid  walls  and  ruined  castle,  the 
rain  caught  us;  and  for  Pilar's  sake  we  made  the  car  cosey  by 
fastening  down  the  front  glass  and  filling  in  the  space  with  drawn 
canvas  curtains. 

After  this,  our  fleeting  glimpses  of  pine  and  palm  and  olive 
were  dimmed  as  we  bowled  along  a  sandy  road,  yellow  as  beaten 
gold.  Now  and  again  a  patch  of  purple  blossom  burning  through 
the  mist  sang  a  loud,  exultant  note  of  spring  and  love;  and  pretty 
orange-pickers,  in  men's  jackets  and  brown  trousers,  warbled  of 
the  same  theme  in  that  soft  Andaluza  which  is  beyond  all  other 
languages  of  passion. 

The  colour,  and  the  music,  and  the  day  went  to  my  head.  I 
knew  that  I  was  young,  and  I  wanted  my  chance  of  happiness  — 
wanted  it  so  much  that  I  felt  I  could  kill  a  man  who  dared  try  to 
snatch  it  from  me. 


XXVI 
IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS 

1  "1^  "TOW  I've  something  serious  to  say,  Don  Ramon," 

j^L  I     began  the  Cherub,  when  we  had  passed  the  first 

^y     pink-and-white  house  which  marked  the  suburbs  of 

Seville.  "  You  mustn't  go  to  an  hotel  here.  It  would 

be  dangerous.  You  must  be  our  guest;  and  Senor  Waring,  too. 

I  feel  now  as  if  our  little  play  were  true,  and  you  were  my  son ; 

while  as  for  Senor  Waring,  we   might   have  known   him   for 

years,  might  we  not,  Pilarcita?" 

"  Of  course.  For  my  part,  I'm  ready  to  adopt  him  for  a  brother, 
too,"  replied  Pilar. 

I  covered  Dick's  recoil  at  this  blow  by  thanking  the  Cherub. 
He  was  more  than  kind,  I  said,  but  we  couldn't  think  of  — 

"  You  will  not  think  of  disappointing  us, "  broke  in  the  dear 
brown  fellow.  "  Could  you  have  imagined  that  our  only  reason 
is  to  keep  you  out  of  danger?  No.  We're  not  so  unselfish.  We 
want  you.  Partings  will  come  soon  enough.  We  must  have  you 
with  us,  under  our  roof,  at  our  table,  as  long  as  we  can.  Now 
you  understand,  you  will  say  'yes.'  ' 

"In  my  country,"  said  Dick,  as  a  broad  hint  to  me,  "when 
we  tell  people  we  want  them  to  visit  us,  we  mean  it;  and  I  guess 
Colonel  O'Donnel  and  Miss  O'Donnel  are  the  same  sort.  " 

Of  course  I  wanted  to  say  yes;  and,  of  course,  after  this,  I  did 
say  yes  without  further  parleying. 

"  Now  begins  the  most  critical  time  in  this  adventure  of  yours. 
Don  Ramon,"  the  Cherub  went  on.  "You  see,  as  our  place  is 
only  five  miles  outside  Seville,  we  know  many  people;  and 

208 


IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  209 

though  Carmona  is  seldom  there  with  his  mother,  he  certainly 
has  acquaintances,  and  some  of  them  may  be  ours  too.  You  have 
travelled  since  Burgos  as  my  son,  though  you  wore  his  uniform 
only  for  two  days;  but  you  may  be  sure  Carmona  has  been 
looking  forward  to  shaking  you  off,  once  and  for  all,  if  you  should 
venture  to  Seville  to  see  the  show  of  Semana  Santa  as  other 
tourists  see  it. " 

"  He  perhaps  thinks  that,  because  of  our  promise  —  which 
we've  kept  —  he's  shaken  Ramon  off  already, "  said  Dick. 

"  He  knows  better.  The  trick  answered  for  a  few  hours ;  but 
his  car  broke  down,  and  he  had  to  accept  our  help.  He  said  then 
that  fate  was  against  him;  I  heard  it;  and  Carmona's  a  man  to 
be  actually  superstitious  about  you,  now.  So  far,  he's  kept  the 
little  senorita  out  of  touch  with  you,  but  that's  nearly  all  he  has 
accomplished. " 

"  Thanks  to  you  both, "  I  cut  in.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
help,  I  should  have  been  'pinched,'  and  hustled  over  the  border 
long  ago.  I  see  that  now;  and  though  I  should  have  come  back 
and  begun  the  chase  again  somehow,  it  would  have  been  a 
thousand  times  more  difficult.  " 

"No  use  bothering  about  what  might  have  happened," 
laughed  Filar.  "  Let's  think  of  what  did  happen  —  and  what 
will. " 

"Nevertheless,"  said  I,  "the  thought's  often  in  my  mind; 
what  if  we  had  missed  Colonel  and  Miss  O'Donnel  at  Burgos  ?" 

Dick  chuckled ;  and  when  Filar  wanted  to  know  what  amused 
him,  asked  my  permission  to  tell.  I  gave  him  leave;  and  with  a 
memory  for  detail  which  I  could  have  spared,  to  say  nothing  of 
an  attempt  at  mimicry,  he  repeated,  word  for  word,  my  ob- 
jections to  meeting  the  Irish  friends  of  Angele  de  la  Mole. 

We  were  so  intimate  now  that  my  point  of  view  before  knowing 
them  did  seem  particularly  comic,  and  Dick  made  the  most  of  it. 

"Well,  think  what  we  have  to  thank  you  for!"  exclaimed 
Filar;  "this  delightful  trip.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  Cristobal 
would  be  here  instead  of  with  Angele  in  Biarritz. " 


210  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  Come  back  to  common  sense, "  implored  the  Cherub,  "  and 
help  me  plan  for  the  Cristobal  who  is  here.  If  he  sits  in  our  box 
for  the  processions,  Carmona  will  see  him  and  say  to  some 
officious  person,  very  different  from  Rafael  Calmenare,  'who 
is  that  young  man  with  the  O'Donnels?'  And  the  officious 
person  will  answer,  'I  never  saw  him  in  my  life.'  'Ah, '  the  Duke 
will  exclaim,  '  isn't  he  Cristobal  O'Donnel  ?'  'Not  at  all, '  will 
come  the  reply;  and  Carmona  will  proceed  to  make  trouble. " 

"For  you  as  well  as  for  me;  that's  the  worst  of  it, "  said  I. 

"We  care  nothing  for  that.  It's  of  you  we  think,"  said  the 
Cherub.  And  because  I  knew  it  was  true,  more  than  ever  it 
became  my  duty  to  think  of  him  and  his. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  want  to  lose  any  chance  of  seeing  Monica, " 
I  said;  "but  on  the  days  of  the  processions  I  shall  walk  about 
in  the  crowd  and  keep  out  of  Carmona's  way. " 

"  As  for  us, "  said  Pilar,  "  we'll  try  for  a  box  near  the  Duke's  — 
though  there  may  be  nothing  left,  as  the  King's  to  be  here  and 
there's  sure  to  be  a  crowd.  I'll  do  my  best  to  whisper  to  Lady 
Monica,  or  send  her  a  note,  or  speak  with  my  eyes  if  no  more.  " 

"You  know  how  I  depend  on  you,"  I  answered.  "She  may 
give  you  a  letter,  an  answer  to  one  which  I  hope  she  got  at 
Manzanares. " 

"  I'll  be  ready  for  the  lightest  hint,"  said  Pilar.  "  If  she  has  a 
note  for  you,  she'll  show  it  behind  her  fan.  Then  I'll  motion  her  to 
crumple  it  up  and  throw  it  on  the  floor  as  she  goes  out.  If  you 
don't  appear  in  our  society,  the  Duke  will  think  perhaps  that 
after  all  he's  safe." 

"No.  We  mustn't  count  on  any  such  thing,"  broke  in  her 
father.  "If  he  can't  get  rid  of  you  in  one  way,  he'll  try  another; 
and  there's  an  old  saying  which  is  still  true :  anything  can  happen 
in  Spain,  especially  in  the  south.  Carmona  will  be  watching 
for  you.  You  must  be  prepared  for  that. " 

"I  shall  be,  "I  said. 

"We'll  all  be,"  Pilar  finished.  "Oh,  there's  the  old  Roman 
aqueduct!  Isn't  it  splendid;  and  strong  as  if  it  had  been  built 


IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  211 

yesterday  instead  of  in  the  days  before  the  Goths.  I  love  Seville  — 
love  every  brick  and  stone  of  it,  from  the  ruins  of  the  Moorish 
wall  and  the  Torre  del  Oro,  and  the  glorious  cathedral,  to  the 
old  house  in  the  Calle  del  Candilejo,  where  the  witch-woman 
looked  out  and  saw  King  Don  Pedro  fighting  his  duel.  I  don't 
believe  any  other  place  could  make  up  to  me  for  Seville. " 

By  the  side  of  the  two-thousand-years-old-aqueduct  ran  a 
modern  electric  tramway ;  and  one  of  the  graceful  arches  made 
by  Roman  hands  had  been  widened  to  let  pass  the  railway  line 
for  Madrid.  Farther  on,  Moorish  houses  with  lofty  miradors  and 
beautiful  capped  windows  were  tucked  between  ugly  new 
buildings,  and  across  the  shaded  avenue  of  a  green  park  was 
flung  an  extraordinary,  four-winged  spiral  staircase  of  iron.  I 
groaned  at  the  monstrosity,  saying  that  Pedro  himself  had  never 
perpetrated  an  act  more  cruel;  and  the  Cherub  excused  it  sadly, 
by  saying  that  it  was  convenient  for  the  crowds  to  pass  from  one 
side  of  the  street  to  the  other,  as  I  should  see  if  I  stayed  beyond 
the  Semana  Santa  for  the  feria. 

"Look  at  the  Giralda,  and  you'll  forget  the  iron  bridge," 
said  Pilar.  My  eyes  followed  hers,  and  lit  h'ke  winging  birds 
upon  a  beautiful  tower  soaring  delicately  against  the  sky.  So 
light,  so  fragile  in  effect  was  it,  I  felt  that  it  might  lean  upon  a 
cloud.  In  the  golden  light  of  afternoon  the  little  pillars  of  old 
marble,  the  carved  lozenges  of  stone,  the  arches  of  the  horseshoe 
windows,  the  dainty  carvings  of  the  balconies,  and  all  the 
marvellous  ornamentation  that  broke  the  square  surfaces  of  the 
tower,  were  rosy  as  if  with  reflections  from  a  sunset  sky.  It's 
beauty  was  a  Moorish  poem  in  brick-work,  such  as  no  other 
hands  save  Moorish  hands  have  ever  made. 

I  looked  back  until  I  lost  sight  of  the  Giralda,  except  the 
glittering  figure  of  Faith  on  the  top  (strange  symbol  for  a  weather- 
vane),  while  threading  through  tortuous  streets,  mere  strips  of 
pavement  veiled  with  blue  shadow,  and  walled  with  secretive, 
flat-fronted  houses,  old  and  new,  pearly  with  fresh  whitewash, 
or  painted  pale  lemon,  faded  orange,  or  a  green  ethereal  as  the 


212  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

tints  of  seaweed.  Even  at  first  sight  the  quaint  town  was  singu- 
larly lovable,  in  its  mingling  of  simplicity  and  mystery,  and  as 
Spanish  in  this  mixture  as  in  all  things  else. 

The  tall,  straight  palms,  with  their  tufted  heads  like  falling 
fountains,  clear  against  the  sky,  were  Oriental,  and  seemed 
scarcely  kin  to  the  palms  of  Italy  and  Southern  France.  Nor 
were  the  narrow  streets,  through  which  we  pounded  over  cobbles, 
like  the  narrow  streets  of  Italian  towns.  They  were  Spanish; 
inexplicably  but  wholly  Spanish,  although  Dick  was  not  sure 
they  did  not  recall  bits  of  Venice,  "  just  as  you  turn  away  from 
St.  Mark's." 

It  was  odd  that  shops  so  small  could  be  so  gay  and  attractive 
as  these  with  their  rows  of  painted  fans,  their  draped  mantillas, 
their  bright  sashes,  foolish  little  tambourines,  castanets  tied  with 
rosettes  of  ribbon  in  Spanish  colours;  their  curious  and  vivid 
antique  jewelry ;  their  sombreros  cordobeses  displayed  in  the  same 
windows  with  silk  hats  from  Bond  Street;  their  flaming  flowers, 
Moorish  pottery,  old  lace,  and  cabinets  of  inlaid  ebony  and  silver. 
And  I  knew  that  I  should  learn  to  love  the  sounds  of  Seville 
better  than  the  sounds  of  London  or  other  cities  I  had  seen. 

Haunting  sounds  they  were,  these  noises  of  a  closely  peopled 
old  town,  characteristic  as  those  of  Naples,  not  so  strident  as  in 
Madrid;  above  all,  the  sound  of  bells,  ringing,  booming,  chiming, 
so  continuously  that  soon  they  would  affect  the  senses  like  a 
heavy  perfume  always  present.  One  would  cease  to  hear  them, 
and  be  startled  only  if  their  clamouring  tongues  were  silenced. 

In  the  streets,  where  the  processions  of  Semana  Santa  would 
pass,  already  hundreds  of  rush-bottomed  chairs  were  ranged 
in  front  of  houses  and  shops,  piled  in  confusion,  which  would  be 
reduced  to  order  for  to-morrow,  Palm  Sunday.  Beyond,  in  the 
Plaza  de  la  Constitucion  —  scene  in  old  days  of  the  bull-fight 
and  auto-da-fe,  —  many  men  were  busy  putting  the  last  touches 
on  the  crimson  velvet  and  gold  draperies  of  the  royal  box, 
pounding  barriers  into  place  in  the  tribune  in  front  of  the  silver- 
like  chasing  of  the  Casa  del  Ayuntamiento's  Plateresque  fa9ade, 


IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  213 

or  arranging  row  after  row  of  chairs  in  the  open  space  opposite, 
leaving  an  aisle  for  the  procession  to  pass  between. 

"Now  there  is  something  to  do  before  we  drive  home  to  the 
Cortijo  de  Santa  Rufina, "  said  the  Cherub.  "  I  must  see  about 
getting  a  box  in  the  tribune  for  the  week;  I  must  find  out 
whether  Carmona  did  come  in  by  train  last  night.  Don  Ramon 
hasn't  suggested  this  plan,  but  I  think  he  would  not  dislike  it. " 

"  I  meant  to  drop  out  of  the  car,  to  see  what  I  could  learn  my- 
self, and  join  you  afterwards  at  home, "  I  said.  "  But  you  can 
get  hold  of  things  better  than  I,  a  stranger,  can. " 

"  You  must  remain  a  stranger, "  he  supplemented  my  words. 
"If  your  chauffeur  will  stop  at  the  top  of  this  narrow  street, 
I'll  walk  down  it  a  few  doors  to  my  club,  and  ask  for  the  latest 
news.  Carmona  doesn't  honour  his  house  in  Seville  too  often 
with  his  presence,  though  his  mother  is  here  every  season,  and 
his  arrival  will  be  the  talk  of  the  club.  I  can  take  steps  too, 
about  a  box  for  the  show.  I  won't  keep  you  long;  but  you'd 
better  wait  at  the  Cafe  Perla.  Pilar  can't  go  there  without  me. 
Oh,  you  may  smile;  but  remember  we're  in  Spain.  She  must 
wait  at  the  house  of  a  friend." 

The  Cherub's  idea  of  a  "little  while"  and  a  "long  while" 
were  always  rather  vague,  and  apt  to  dovetail  confusingly  one 
into  another;  but  knowing  what  it  was  his  aim  to  accomplish, 
I  did  not  grudge  the  fifty  minutes  before  his  ample  form  and 
smiling  face  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  the  cafe. 

"  It's  all  right, "  were  his  first  words.  "  I  felt  my  luck  wouldn't 
desert  me.  Who  do  you  suppose "  —  and  he  turned  to  Pilar, 
who  had  come  on  with  him  —  "  was  the  first  man  I  ran  across  ? 
No  other  than  Don  Esteban  Villaroya. " 

Pilar  looked  a  little  frightened.  "But  he's  a  friend  of  the 
Duke's.  Won't  that  make  it  awkward?" 

"No;  all  the  better.  I  told  him  Cristobal  and  my  daughter 
and  I  had  motored  from  Burgos  with  an  American  friend,  an 
important  writer  for  the  papers,  who  was  going  to  pay  us  a 
visit.  Not  an  untrue  word  to  trouble  mv  confessor  with.  Don 


214  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Esteban  may  or  may  not  mention  our  meeting  to  Cannona  when 
he  dines  with  him  this  evening. " 

"Dines  with  him?  Oh,  I  hope  that  won't  make  mischief." 

"It  won't.  Cannona  arrived  late  last  night,  with  his  mother 
and  guests.  It  seems  preparations  have  been  going  on  in  the 
house  for  the  past  fortnight;  and  the  first  thing  Cannona  and  his 
mother  did  was  to  send  out  half  a  dozen  invitations  for  dinner 
this  evening.  Afterwards,  he  managed,  probably  through  royal 
influence,  to  get  permission  from  the  Governor  to  take  the  party 
into  the  Alcazar  by  moonlight,  and  he's  going  to  have  coloured 
illuminations,  music,  and  Spanish  dances  given  by  professionals 
in  the  costumes  of  different  provinces.  A  grand  idea,  Don  Esteban 
thinks. " 

"  But  why  is  he  doing  it  ?  "  asked  Pilar,  thoughtfully.  "  Maria 
purisima!  It  isn't  as  if  he  were  an  impulsive  or  hospitable  man, 
fond  of  getting  up  impromptu  entertainments.  This  is  done  in  a 
hurry.  What  can  be  his  object  ?  for  he  always  has  an  object. " 

"To  amuse  Lady  Monica,  who's  not  pleased  with  him  so 
far,"  explained  the  Cherub.  "And  as  he's  a  good  Catholic,  at 
least  in  appearance,  to-night  or  the  night  after  will  be  his  last 
chance  to  entertain  till  Semana  Santa  is  over. " 

"Somehow,  I  don't  feel  that's  reason  enough,"  said  Pilar, 
looking  so  troubled  that  I  felt  new  stirrings  of  anxiety,  and  must 
have  shown  it;  for  Pilar  exclaimed  that  she  was  a  "  little  beast" 
to  worry  me. 

"You  haven't  worried  me,"  I  protested.  "Still,  I  think  I'll 
go  to  that  entertainment  at  the  Alcazar. " 

Pilar  and  her  father  stared.  "  I  see  what  you  mean, "  said  the 
girl.  "You  hope  to  walk  in  and  meet  Lady  Monica.  But  you 
can't,  because  the  Alcazar's  closed  to  the  public  after  sunset. 
It  will  only  be  open  for  the  Duke  as  a  favour,  because  he's  rich 
and  important,  and  care  will  be  taken  that  no  outsider  slips  in. " 

"  If  there  should  be  one  more  guitarist  than  he  hired,  do  you 
think  it  would  be  noticed  ?"  I  asked,  smiling. 

Pilar  clapped  her  hands.  ''  You're  a  true  lover,  Don  Ramon, " 


IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  215 

she  exclaimed.  "Ay  de  mi!  Nobody  will  ever  love  a  little  dark 
thing  like  myself,  as  Lady  Monica  is  loved.  I  must  be  satisfied 
with  the  affections  of  my  relations,  and  a  few  others,  I  suppose. " 
Great  eyes  lifted  sadly  ceiling-ward  as  she  spoke,  then  cast  down 
with  distracting  play  of  long  curled  lashes.  Spanish  after  all  to 
her  finger-tips,  this  Maria  del  Pilar  Ines,  despite  her  Irish  quick- 
ness. Poor  Dick! 

"  You  believe  I  could  manage  it,  then  ?  " 

"  I  believe  you  will.  Senor  Waring  has  told  me  about  the 
masked  ball,  and  how  you  played  Romeo  to  somebody's  Juliet. " 

"  The  difficulty  will  be  to  get  hold  of  the  impresario.  " 

Pilar  looked  at  her  watch.  "They'll  know  at  the  Alcazar 
who's  been  engaged.  There's  an  hour  and  a  half  yet  before 
closing  time. " 

"  What  if  you  and  I  take  a  stroll  through  ?  "  suggested  Dick. 

"  We'll  all  take  a  stroll  through, "  said  Pilar,  "  and  papa  shall 
find  out.  You  know,  he  can  always  make  everybody  tell  him 
anything  in  five  minutes.  Even  Cristobal  and  I  have  never  been 
able  to  keep  a  secret  from  him.  If  I'd  planned  to  elope,  he  would 
only  have  to  whisper  and  smile,  for  me  to  tell  all,  even  if  it  meant 
my  going  into  a  convent  directly  after.  " 

"  Yes,  we  must  go  to  the  Alcazar  now,  or  it  will  be  too  late," 
said  the  Cherub,  with  an  indulgent  twinkle  at  his  spoiled 
daughter. 

The  car  took  us  to  the  gate  of  the  Alcazar,  a  gate  of  that 
unsuggestive  Moorish  simplicity  which  purposely  hid  all  splen- 
dours of  decoration  from  any  save  favoured  eyes.  The  guardian 
knew  and  evidently  respected  Colonel  O'Donnel;  but  with 
apologies  which  comprehended  the  whole  party,  he  regretted 
that  he  could  not  let  us  in.  The  King  was  to  arrive  in  a  few  days, 
returning  from  his  yachting  trip  to  the  Canaries,  and  would  live 
in  the  Alcazar  which  was  being  got  ready  for  him.  From  now 
until  the  day  after  his  departure,  the  Alcazar  was  to  be  closed 
to  the  public. 

This  was  just,  and  as  it  should  be,  admitted  the  Cherub ;  but 


216  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

we  were  not  the  public.  We  were  special  ones,  even  as  special 
as  the  Duke  of  Carmona  who  would  entertain  his  friends  there 
that  evening.  Surely  the  guardian  must  know  that  the  O'Donnel 
family  was  on  terms  of  friendship  with  the  Governor  of  the 
Alcazar,  who  would  suffer  severe  pains  of  the  heart  if  he  heard 
that  such  visitors  had  been  turned  away.  Thus  the  good  Cherub 
continued  to  whisper.  And  whether  or  no  coin  changed  hands 
I  cannot  tell;  but  certain  it  is  that  in  less  than  the  five  minutes 
allowed  by  Pilar  for  the  working  of  her  father's  fascinations, 
we  were  inside  the  forbidden  precincts,  accompanied  by  a  lamb- 
like attendant. 

It  was  from  him  that  we  must  learn  what  we  wished  to  know ; 
but  it  would  be  unwise  to  betray  a  premature  thirst  for  informa- 
tion on  any  subject  save  the  history  or  beauties  of  the  Alcazar. 
Asking  a  question  now  and  then  of  our  guide,  we  wandered  from 
patio  to  patio,  from  room  to  room  of  that  wonderful  royal 
dwelling  once  called  "  the  house  of  Caesar.  "  Many  a  rude  shock 
and  vicissitude  had  it  sustained  when  Goths  fought  for  it  with 
Romans,  when  Moors  seized  it  from  Christians,  when  Christians 
won  it  back,  and  conducted  themselves  within  its  jewelled  walls 
in  ways  unworthy  of  their  faith  and  boasted  chivalry;  yet  the 
beauties  which  Pedro  the  Cruel  restored  in  admiring  imitation 
of  the  Alhambra,  glowed  still  with  undimmed  splendour,  in  the 
sunshine  of  this  twentieth  century  afternoon. 

If  I  had  not  been  preoccupied  by  my  own  private  and  ex- 
tremely modern  anxieties,  I  should  have  let  imagination  work 
the  spell  it  longed  to  work,  and  make  of  me  some  humble 
character  gliding  shadow-like,  but  ever  observant,  through  tale 
after  tale  of  the  "Arabian  Nights."  In  just  such  a  palace  as  this 
had  the  Seven  Calenders  lost  each  an  eye ;  behind  any  one  of  these 
fretted  arches  might  one  come  upon  a  king,  half  man,  half  jet- 
black  marble.  The  most  captious  of  genies  could  have  found  no 
fault  with  the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors  save  the  absence  of  the 
roc's  egg;  and  despite  my  impatience  the  storied  enchantment 
of  the  place  soon  had  me  in  its  grip. 


IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KINGS  217 

Scheherezade,  I  said  to  myself,  could  have  invented  no  tales 
to  surpass  in  thrilling  interest  the  scenes  which  had  been  enacted 
here.  The  drama  of  widowed  Egilona  and  her  handsome  Moorish 
prince,  ruined  by  her  love;  the  tragedy  of  Abu  Said,  done  to 
death  by  Pedro  for  the  sake  of  his  "  fair  ruby,  great  as  a  racket 
ball, "  and  the  store  of  gems  for  which  men  still  search  secretly 
in  hidden  nooks  of  the  Alcazar;  the  murder  of  the  young  Master 
of  Santiago,  who  came  to  Pedro  as  an  honoured  guest;  the  love 
story  of  Maria  de  Padilla,  whose  spirit,  the  guardian  whispered, 
could  be  seen  to  this  day  flitting  in  moonlight  and  shadow 
along  her  favourite  garden  walks,  or  trailing  white  robes  through 
rooms  which  had  been  hers. 

"  Perhaps,  as  the  moon  is  full,  Maria  will  appear  to-night  in 
the  garden  to  the  Duke  of  Carmona  and  his  guests, "  said  Pilar; 
and  I  knew  from  this  preface  that  our  probation  was  at  an  end. 

The  attendant  laughed.  "Perhaps,"  he  replied;  "but  I  think 
there  will  be  too  much  noise  to  please  her.  The  Duke  has  en- 
gaged a  troupe  of  dancers  and  guitarists  to  entertain  his  friends. " 

"  No  doubt  King  Don  Pedro  used  to  amuse  his  in  the  same 
way,"  remarked  the  Cherub,  "employing  the  forerunners  of 
Ramiro  Olivero  and  his  school  maybe. " 

"  It  is  Ramiro  Olivero  who  performs  to-night, "  said  the  atten- 
dant, playing  into  our  hands. 

"  Of  course !  He  is  the  favoured  one  in  such  affairs, "  assented 
the  Cherub.  "  It  ought  to  be  a  pretty  entertainment,  and  interest- 
ing to  the  Duke's  English  guests.  It  will  be  somewhere  in  the 
gardens  ?  " 

"  In  the  lower  garden  of  the  Moorish  kiosk, "  was  the  unsus- 
pecting reply. 

Pilar  looked  at  me,  and  her  eyes  said,  "  The  key  you  wanted 
is  in  your  hand.  " 


XXVII 
MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN 

WHEN  the  Cherub  dies  and  is  gathered  to  his  Irish 
and  Spanish  fathers  (far  distant  be  the  day ! )  he 
will  not  know  a  happy  moment  in  Paradise  unless 
he  is  doing  something  ingenuously  kind  for  some- 
body. It  is  my  conviction  that  he  will  have  to  be  made  a 
guardian  angel ;  and  I  mentioned  this  theory  to  him  as  he  took 
me  to  the  house  of  Ramiro  Olivero,  ex-bull-fighter,  present  pro- 
fessor of  Spanish  dancing. 

The  others  were  waiting  in  the  car,  as,  according  to  the 
Cherub's  plan  of  campaign,  he  and  I  were  to  visit  Olivero  alone. 

We  climbed  many  stairs  to  the  flat  where  the  celebrated  man 
lives  and  conducts  his  school  for  dancing.  He  it  was  who  came 
to  the  door,  and  it  was  a  sight  worth  seeing  to  watch  his  some- 
what hard,  middle-aged  features  relax  in  response  to  cherubic 
munnurings. 

Colonel  O'Donnel  remembered  Senor  Olivero  since  the  time 
when  he  was  a  banderillero;  oh,  incomparably  the  most  brilliant 
banderillero  of  his  day.  Then,  afterwards,  what  triumphs  as  a 
torero  !  Ah,  that  was  something  for  an  old  admirer  to  remember. 
Not  to  regret,  naturally,  since  the  senor  was  as  great  an  artist  in 
his  present  profession  as  in  that  other  doubtless  sacrificed  to 
family  affections. 

This  gentleman  whom  he  (Colonel  O'Donnel)  now  ventured 
to  introduce  was  from  England,  travelling  with  a  friend  from 
the  States  who  wrote  articles  on  Spain  for  well-known  journals. 
The  American  could  speak  no  Spanish,  but  with  the  gentleman 

218 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN  219 

from  England  it  was  like  the  native  tongue.  Therefore  it  was  he 
who  most  often  attended  important  ceremonies,  and  made  notes 
for  his  friend  to  work  up  into  articles.  This  entertainment  in 
which  Senor  Olivero  was  assisting  the  Duke  of  Carmona,  for 
instance;  it  would  be  all  that  was  characteristic  of  Spain,  as  well 
as  beautiful.  If  the  senor  would  allow  the  gentleman  from  Eng- 
land to  enter  the  Alcazar  as  one  of  his  guitarists,  an  article  could 
be  made  for  the  great  American  newspapers  which  would  not 
only  be  a  credit  to  the  journalist,  but  would  widely  advertise  the 
skill  of  Senor  Olivero  and  his  pupils. 

If  every  man  has  his  price,  it  was  not  derogatory  to  his  merits 
that  these  pearls  of  flattery  should  be  the  price  which  bought 
Olivero.  Not  a  penny  was  to  be  paid  for  the  favour.  When  the 
word  "  money "  was  hinted,  rather  than  spoken,  the  ex-hero  of 
the  bull-ring  waved  it  away  with  a  superb  gesture.  But  he  would 
be  glad  to  see  the  articles  when  they  appeared;  and  this  was 
promised,  for  Dick  must  write  them  for  the  neglected  papers  he 
was  supposed  to  represent. 

In  return  for  the  promise  (and  the  compliments),  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  I  should  present  myself  at  his  house  about  ten  o'clock 
(the  dance  was  timed  to  begin  at  10.45),  there  dress  for  my  part, 
and  be  furnished  with  a  guitar.  Once  inside  the  Alcazar  I  need 
not  play  upon  the  instrument;  but,  said  Olivero,  it  was  well 
that  I  should  be  able  to  do  so  if  called  upon.  My  costume  was  to 
be  a  short  chulo  jacket  and  tight-hipped,  loose-legged  grey 
trousers,  with  a  low-collared,  unstarched  shirt,  and  a  broad- 
brimmed  grey  sombrero  de  Cordoba.  With  this  hat,  well  tipped 
over  my  eyes,  in  moonlight  or  even  spasmodic  rose-and-gold 
bursts  of  coloured  fire,  recognition  would  be  impossible  at  a  dis- 
tance; and  I  meant  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  all  the  Duke's 
party  —  with  one  exception. 

By  the  time  the  plan  was  mapped  out,  it  was  nearly  seven 
o'clock,  but  the  O'Donnels  still  urged  me  to  dine  at  the  Cortijo 
de  Santa  Rufina.  The  Gloria  would  eat  up  the  six  miles  distance 
in  ten  minutes;  I  could  bathe  and  dress  before  8.15,  when  dinner 


220  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

would  be  ready  (a  telegram  had  been  sent  to  the  servants  from 
Cordoba),  and  rested  and  refreshed,  I  could  start  for  Seville  in 
the  car  again  at  half-past  nine. 

So  we  flashed  out  across  the  Guadalquivir,  by  way  of  the  bridge 
of  Isabel  Segunda,  into  that  strange  suburb  which  gave  Trajan 
birth,  and  my  family  their  name;  ancient  Trajana,  now  Triana, 
town  of  potters,  picadores,  and  gypsies. 

Dark-browed  boys  played  toreros  to  our  car  as  bull,  their  coats 
muletas,  sticks  their  banderillas,  yelling  and  springing  lithely 
aside  as  the  enemy  rushed  on  them.  Girls,  handsome  as  Carmen, 
flung  us  flowers,  staring  boldly  eye  to  eye;  and  this  was  my  wel- 
come to  the  place  near  which  the  Casa  Trianas  had  once  lived 
and  thought  themselves  great! 

Almost  could  I  have  seen  the  towers  of  the  old  house  —  now 
the  property  of  the  King  —  as  we  passed  into  open  country  again ; 
but  I  did  not  speak,  nor  did  the  others,  though  the  thought  in  my 
mind  must  have  been  in  Pilar's  and  Colonel  O'Donnel's. 

Five  miles  more,  through  falling  dusk  and  sweet  country  scents 
and  we  turned  off  the  main  road  into  another,  gleaming  white  as 
a  path  of  snow  in  the  opal  twilight.  Then,  in  a  wide-reaching 
plantation  of  olives,  spraying  silver  on  a  ruddy  soil  where  glim- 
mered irrigation  tanks  and  grinding  mills,  we  came  upon  a  large, 
irregular  clump  of  white  buildings  grouped  together,  and  made 
one  by  a  high  wall  with  an  open  belfry  at  one  corner. 

"Here  we  are  at  home!"  exclaimed  the  Cherub  with  a  con- 
tented sigh,  as  he  gently  touched  Ropes'  shoulder.  "  Welcome, 
dear  friends,  to  the  Cortijo  de  Santa  Rufina.  It,  and  all  within  its 
walls,  is  at  your  disposition." 

We  drove  in  through  a  wide  gate  in  the  outer  wall,  where  there 
was  a  clamour  of  greeting  from  the  steward,  many  servants,  and 
more  dogs,  dogs  of  all  races,  who  selected  Pilar  for  their  wildest 
demonstrations.  In  a  second  she  was  out  of  the  car,  and  hah7 
drowned  in  a  wave  of  tumultuous  doghood.  Laughing,  shaking 
hands  with  the  servants,  patting  or  suppressing  greyhounds, 
collies,  setters,  retrievers,  she  had  never  seemed  so  charming. 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN  221 

This  was  the  real  Pilar  —  Pilar  at  home;  the  Pilar  it  would  be 
next  to  impossible  to  uproot  from  such  associations.  Again,  poor 
Dick!  And  now  he  no  longer  tried  to  hide  the  loving  admiration 
in  his  eyes.  I  think  he  would  even  have  done  his  best  to  fondle  a 
wild  bull  or  two  of  her  acquaintance  had  they  been  among  the 
friends  who  gave  her  welcome. 

Away  boomed  the  Gloria  to  the  stables  —  the  sole  garage  at 
the  Cortijo  —  while  we  were  bidden  through  the  Moorish  en- 
trance-porch and  wrought-iron  cancela  into  a  patio  surrounded 
on  all  sides  by  an  arcade,  roofed  with  green  and  brown  tiling.  The 
supporting  pillars  were  of  pale  pink  brick,  not  marble,  and  the 
pavement  was  of  brick  also,  interset  with  a  pattern  of  small  blue 
tiles.  But  the  tiles  were  old  and  good ;  from  a  carved  stone  basin 
in  the  middle  of  the  court  sprang  the  tall  crystal  stem  of  a  foun- 
tain, blossoming  into  diamonds;  pearly  arum  lilies,  pink  azaleas, 
and  pale  green  hydrangeas  bloomed  in  huge  white  and  blue  and 
yellow  pots  from  Triana,  of  the  same  beautiful  shapes  made 
before  Santa  Justa  and  Santa  Rufina  knew  they  were  saints,  and 
undertook  to  keep  the  Giralda  from  falling. 

The  windows  leading  into  the  rooms  surrounding  the  patio 
were  large  as  doors,  and  all  were  hospitably  open,  giving  through 
thin  curtains  glimpses  of  old  furniture  carefully  grouped  to 
please  a  woman's  dainty  taste.  Pilar  again  —  always  Pilar!  Here 
were  her  lares  and  penates;  and  she  was  a  goddess  among  lesser 
household  gods.  I  knew  that  it  would  be  safer  for  Dick  to  say  a 
hasty  good-bye  upon  the  threshold;  but  I  knew  also  that  no  power 
on  earth  could  force  him  to  do  it. 

"  This  is  only  a  farm,  you  know,"  said  the  girl,  meekly,  all  the 
while  dimpling  with  pride  in  her  home  and  what  she  had  made 
it;  "  for  we  are  only  farmers,  aren't  we,  Papa." 

Our  rooms  —  Dick's  and  mine  —  were  not  overstocked  with 
furniture;  but  there  were  two  or  three  things  for  which  an  anti- 
quary would  have  pawned  his  soul.  On  one  side,  our  windows 
looked  upon  the  patio;  on  the  other,  we  gazed  through  iron  bars 
over  olives  and  meadows  where  grain  was  green.  There  was  no 


222  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

sound  save  the  tinkling  rain  of  the  fountain,  and  now  and  then 
the  sleepy  note  of  a  bird,  or  a  far-away  lowing  of  cattle  —  per- 
haps the  welcoming  bellow  of  Vivillo,  the  brown  bull  which  was 
the  sole  possession  of  Carmona  coveted  by  Pilar. 

The  two  servants  who  waited  at  dinner  were  wreathed  in  smiles 
at  seeing  again  their  master  and  mistress;  and  their  occasional 
furtive  glances  of  interest  in  my  direction  made  me  wonder  if 
they  had  not  received  mysterious  instructions  as  to  how  they  must 
answer  any  questions  concerning  me.  But,  whatever  those  in- 
structions might  be,  I  was  sure  they  would  be  loyally  carried  out; 
for  the  Cherub  is  a  man  servants  would  obey  through  torture 
until  death,  if  these  days  were  as  the  old. 

At  half -past  nine  Ropes  was  ready  to  spin  me  back  into  Seville. 
We  arrived  earlier  than  need  be;  and  having  made  an  appoint- 
ment to  meet  at  a  quiet  hotel,  where  Ropes  would  await  me  from 
half -past  eleven  till  half -past  twelve,  I  decided  to  walk  past  Car- 
mona's  house  and  reconnoitre. 

I  knew  where  to  find  it,  in  the  Calle  de  las  Duefias ;  but  if  I  had 
hoped  for  a  tell-tale  glimpse  within,  as  in  a  London  or  Parisian 
mansion,  I  was  disappointed.  Once  a  Moorish  palace,  it  showed 
a  closed,  secretive  front  to  the  narrow  street.  But  I  knew,  for  I 
had  read,  that  within  there  were  six  courtyards,  ninety  marble 
pillars,  half  a  dozen  fountains,  a  garden  of  orange  and  magnolia 
trees,  with  myrtle  hedges  clipped  to  represent  the  ducal  arms; 
that  there  were  vast  treasures  of  statuary,  pictures  by  Velasquez, 
Murillo,  and  Alonso  Cano;  gold-inlaid  plate  armour;  tapestry 
from  the  Netherlands  not  to  be  surpassed  at  the  Royal  Palace  at 
Madrid. 

I  knew  that  these  splendours  would  loom  large  in  the  eyes  of 
Lady  Vale- Avon,  and  might  count  for  something  even  with  Mon- 
ica, who  confessed  to  a  love  of  all  things  beautiful.  I  thought  of  the 
famous  Carmona  jewels,  which  would  belong  to  the  wife  of  the 
Duke,  while  she  lived,  as  they  had  belonged  to  generations  of 
Duchesses.  Above  all,  I  thought  of  the  incomparable  Blanca 
Laguna  pearl  and  its  glistening  maids  of  honour,  which,  by  this 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN  223 

time  perhaps,  had  been  shown  to  Monica.  There  were  few  girls 
in  Spain,  or  in  the  world,  I  remembered  hearing  my  mother  say, 
who  could  resist  that  pearl  as  a  bride.  And  now  it  was  offered  to 
Monica,  a  penniless  girl  of  eighteen,  whose  beauty  formed  her 
sole  dowry. 

There,  behind  the  cold  reserve  of  those  white  walls  with  the 
shut,  brass-studded  doors  and  barred  windows,  she  was  being 
feted  by  the  Duke,  dining  on  gold  plate,  in  a  tapestried  room 
fragrant  with  orange  flowers.  I  could  see  the  pictures.  I  could  see 
the  look  in  Carmona's  eyes  as  they  turned  to  her,  saying,  "  all 
this  is  yours  if  you  will  have  it."  And  Carmona's  eyes  were  hand- 
some eyes ;  I  had  to  admit  that,  in  justice. 

Would  she  hold  true  to  me  —  true  to  a  man  with  no  palaces, 
no  lands,  no  priceless  pearls,  and  only  half  as  many  hundreds  a 
year  as  her  other  lover  had  thousands?  Would  she  be  able  to 
resist  her  mother,  now  that  mother  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes 
now  much  there  was  to  fight  for  and  to  win  ? 

The  question  would  come.  But  with  it  came  a  vision  of  Monica 
herself,  pure  and  sweet  as  beautiful,  loyal  and  loving  as  she  was 
lovely.  And  I  said  to  myself,  "  Yes,  she  will  be  true." 

It  was  with  the  clear  ringing  of  these  words  in  my  mind  that  I 
turned  my  back  upon  the  house  of  Cannona. 

Once  I  had  passed  into  the  Alcazar  with  Olivero's  band  of 
dancers  and  guitarists  I  was  free  to  do  as  I  pleased.  And  I  pleased 
to  escape  from  my  laughing,  chattering  companions  before  the 
arrival  of  the  Duke  and  his  guests,  and  the  illuminations  in  their 
honour.  There  was  no  better  place  to  wait  and  watch  for  the 
opportunity  I  wanted,  than  in  the  mock-Moorish  kiosk  at  the 
end  of  the  lower  garden.  From  there  I  could  see  without  being 
seen;  and  the  moment  a  chance  came  I  should  be  ready  to 
take  it. 

It  was  early  still,  but  Olivero  lost  no  time  in  marshalling  his 
little  army  into  place,  that  they  might  make  a  good  effect  as  a 
tableau  vivant  when  the  great  people  came.  He  seated  his  six 
men  with  guitars,  their  sombreros  at  precisely  the  right  angle  on 


224  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

their  glossy  black  heads,  and  in  a  row  of  chairs  in  front  six 
young  women  in  black  dresses  with  black  lace  mantillas,  the  red 
and  yellow  ribbons  of  their  castanets  already  in  their  hands. 
Then,  at  intervals,  he  grouped  the  dancers,  youths,  and  pretty 
girls,  carefully  dressed  in  the  costumes  of  different  provinces, 
making  a  bouquet  of  bright  colours  in  the  light  of  a  few  concealed 
lamps  which  supplemented  the  silver  radiance  of  the  moon,  now 
almost  at  the  zenith. 

The  minutes  passed.  The  dancers  talked  in  subdued  tones 
which  scarcely  disturbed  the  nightingales.  A  breeze  rustled  the 
crisp  leaves  of  the  orange  trees  and  myrtle  hedges ;  far  away  the 
voice  of  the  watchman  told  the  hour  of  eleven,  echoed  by  the 
chiming  bells  of  a  church  clock;  and  the  last  stroke  had  not 
sounded  when  there  was  a  burst  of  merry  voices  in  a  distant 
avenue.  Carmona  and  his  friends  had  come  —  late,  of  course  — 
or  there  could  have  been  no  Andalucians  among  them ;  and  sud- 
denly, as  if  on  a  signal,  the  gardens  pulsed  with  rose-coloured 
light.  In  the  pink  blaze  I  saw  Monica,  slender  and  fair 
as  a  lily,  in  a  white  dress  sparkling  with  silver;  but  I  had 
only  time  to  see  that  she  walked  beside  Carmona,  when  the  rose 
flame  died  down  and  left  the  garden  pure  and  peaceful  under 
the  moon. 

For  an  instant  the  soft  light  seemed  darkness,  and  I  lost  the 
white  figure.  When  it  sprang  to  my  eyes  again  in  a  sharp  emerald 
flash,  while  all  the  hidden  fountains  in  the  garden  walks  spouted 
jewels,  others  were  grouped  round  it;  only  the  gold  crown  of 
rippling  hair  shone  out  clear  as  a  star  for  me  among  other  wo- 
men's dark  coils  and  braids. 

Old  ebony  chairs  with  crimson  velvet  cushions  and  the  Car- 
mona arms  in  heavy  gilding,  had  been  sent  to  the  Alcazar  from 
the  Duke's  house,  for  the  entertainment.  The  party  sat  down, 
and  the  dancing  began,  to  the  flamenco  music  of  guitars  and  the 
clacking  of  castanets;  the  fandango,  the  bolero,  the  malaguena, 
the  chaquera  vella;  all  the  classical  dances  of  old  Spain,  and  each 
one  a  variant  on  the  theme  of  love,  the  woman  coy,  coquettishly 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN  225 

retreating;  the  man  persuading  or  demanding,  the  woman  yield- 
ing in  passionate  abandonment  at  last. 

In  the  midst  of  a  sevillana  I  came  out  from  the  shadows  of  the 
kiosk  and  walked  without  a  sound  of  rattling  pebble  or  cracking 
twig,  along  a  path  which  the  moon  had  not  yet  found. 

The  high  backs  of  the  ebony  chairs  were  turned  to  me.  I  could 
not  even  see  the  heads  of  the  people  who  sat  in  them;  but  I  had 
watched  them  take  their  places,  and  I  knew  that  Monica's  chair 
was  the  outside  one  on  the  end,  at  the  right. 

Everyone  was  absorbed  in  watching  the  dance.  As  it  approach- 
ed its  tempestuous  climax  of  joy  and  love,  I  moved  into  the  deep 
shadow  of  a  magnolia  tree,  close  to  Monica  —  so  close  that, 
reaching  out  from  behind  the  round  trunk  which  screened  me,  I 
touched  her  hand. 

With  a  start,  she  glanced  up,  expecting  perhaps  to  find  that  the 
breeze  had  blown  a  rose-branch  across  her  fingers.  Instead,  she 
saw  my  face;  for  I  had  taken  off  the  wide-brimmed  grey  sombrero 
and  bared  my  head  to  her. 

For  a  second  she  looked  straight  into  my  eyes,  as  if  she  doubted 
that  she  saw  aright.  Then,  an  unbelievable  thing  happened.  Her 
eyes  grew  cold  as  glass.  Her  lips  tightened  into  a  line  which  I  had 
not  dreamed  their  soft  curves  could  take.  Her  youth  and  beauty 
froze  under  my  gaze.  With  a  haughty  lifting  of  her  brows,  and  an 
indescribable  movement  of  her  shoulder  which  could  mean  noth- 
ing but  scornful  indifference,  she  turned  away  as  if  impatient  at 
having  lost  a  gesture  of  the  dancers. 

Astounded,  I  stepped  back;  and  so  vast  was  the  chasm  of  my 
amazement  that  I  floundered  in  it  bewildered,  unable  even  to 
suffer. 

Then  came  a  pang  of  such  pain  and  anger  as  I  had  never 
known  —  anger  not  against  the  girl,  but  against  Carmona;  and 
the  knife  which  pierced  me  was  dipped  in  the  poison  of  jealously. 
My  impulse  was  to  leap  out  from  the  shadow  and  strangle  him. 
My  hands  tingled  for  his  neck,  and  through  the  drumming  of 
the  blood  in  my  ears  I  could  hear  the  crack  his  spine  would  make 


226  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

as  I  twisted  it.  For  that  instant  I  was  a  madman.  Then,  some- 
thing that  was  myself  conquered. 

Horror  of  the  savage  thing  just  born  in  me  overflowed  in  an 
icy  flood  that  swept  it,  drowning,  out  of  my  soul.  But  never  again, 
so  long  as  I  may  live,  shall  I  condemn  a  man  who  kills  another  in 
one  blind  moment  of  rage. 

Even  when  the  red  glaze  was  gone  from  before  my  eyes,  I 
could  not  trust  myself  to  stand  there,  looking  at  Carmona  as  he 
smiled  and  patronized  the  dancers  by  clapping  his  hands.  I  turn- 
ed away,  not  stopping  until  I  had  regained  the  kiosk. 

There  I  sat  down,  elbows  on  knees,  head  in  my  hands,  trying 
to  analyse  that  look  on  Monica's  face,  trying  to  tell  myself  that  I 
must  have  mis-read  it  —  that  such  an  expression  as  I  imagined 
could  not  have  been  there  for  me. 

Perhaps,  as  I  suddenly  appeared  behind  a  veil  of  flickering 
moonlight  and  shadow  she  had  not  known  who  I  was.  She  had 
mistaken  me  for  some  impertinent  stranger,  and  rather  than  give 
an  alarm,  she  had  hoped  that  a  frown  might  rid  her  of  the  intrud- 
er. Then,  I  had  gone  without  giving  her  a  second  chance  to  recog- 
nize me. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  such  reflections,  I  almost  persuaded 
myself  that  I  had  been  a  fool  and  was  wholly  to  blame  for  what  I 
suffered.  At  least,  I  said,  I  owed  it  to  her  to  make  sure  that  the 
look  had  been  for  me,  and  the  suspense  must  end  to-night.  I 
would  know,  even  if  I  made  her  answer  me  under  the  eyes  of 
Carmona  and  the  others. 

But  a  moment  later  I  saw  that  I  need  not  be  driven  to  such 
extremes. 

The  first  part  of  the  dance  was  over;  the  Duke  and  his  guests 
were  walking  through  the  gardens  in  the  interval.  They  were 
coming  my  way  —  coming  to  the  kiosk.  As  they  advanced,  I 
retreated  into  shadow.  I  let  the  group  linger  at  the  kiosk,  admir- 
ing the  beautiful  aztdejos;  I  let  them  move  on ;  then,  as  Monica 
loitered  purposely  behind  the  others,  drooping  and  evidently 
sad,  I  put  myself  in  front  of  her. 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  GARDEN  227 

"  Monica,"  I  said,  "  what  has  happened  ?  You  — " 
The  girl  flung  up  her  head,  and  though  there  was  a  glitter  of 
tears  in  her  eyes  and  her  face  was  white  under  the  moon,  she 
stared  defiance.  "  Don't  speak  to  me,"  she  said.  "  I  never  wish 
to  see  you  again.  I'm  going  to  many  the  Duke  of  Cannona." 


XXVIII 
LET  YOUR  HEART  SPEAK 

MEN  do  not  kill  themselves  for  such  things.  Fools,  of 
cowards,  or  children  may;   but  not  men  who  are 
worthy  the  name.  Yet  there  was  no  joy  of  life  left  in 
me,  as  I  went  out  of  the  Alcazar  garden,  having 
had  my  answer. 

Love  cannot  die  in  an  hour,  and  I  loved  Monica  still,  though  I 
said  that  she  was  not  the  girl  to  whom  I  had  dedicated  my  soul 
in  worship. 

She  had  let  me  follow  her,  only  to  say  at  last :  "  I  never  wish  to 
see  you  again.  I'm  going  to  marry  the  Duke  of  Carmona." 

After  all,  she  had  proved  herself  a  docile  daughter.  She  had 
seen  what  the  house  of  a  grandee  of  Spain  can  be  like.  She  had 
seen  the  Blanca  Laguna  pearl.  Poor  child  of  eighteen  years, 
brought  up  to  know  poverty  and  to  loathe  it;  was  I  to  let  my  love 
turn  to  hate  because  she  was  not  an  angel,  but  a  woman  like 
others  ? 

A  despairing  pity  and  a  sense  of  hopeless  loss  weighed  upon 
my  spirit  with  such  heaviness  as  I  had  never  known.  Not  only 
had  I  lost  the  girl  I  loved,  but  there  was  no  such  girl;  she  was  a 
dream,  and  I  had  waked  up.  That  was  all ;  but  it  seemed  the  end 
of  everything. 

My  errand  in  Spain  was  finished,  or  rather  broken  short.  She 
did  not  want  me  any  more.  The  sooner  I  took  myself  out  of  her 
life  and  let  her  forget  what  must  now  seem  childish  folly,  the 
better.  I  might  have  known  —  she  was  so  young ;  and  she  had 
warned  me  of  disaster  when  she  said,  "  Don't  leave  me  alone." 

228 


LET  YOUR  HEART  SPEAK  229 

I  went  to  Olivero's  flat  and  changed  my  clothes;  then  to  the 
hotel  where  Ropes  and  the  car  were  waiting.  For  the  first  time 
since  we  had  come  into  Spain,  I  drove,  "like  a  demon,"  Ropes' 
surprised  face  said,  though  his  tongue  was  discreet;  and  the  wild 
rush  through  the  air  was  wine  to  thirsty  lips. 

At  the  Cortijo  de  Santa  Rufina  they  were  all  sitting  in  the  patio 
in  floods  of  moonlight,  the  great  awning  which  gave  shade  by 
day,  fully  rolled  back. 

"You  see,"  exclaimed  Pilar,  "we  sat  up  for  you.  Well,  how 
did  it  go  off?" 

I  heard  myself  laughing.  It  did  not  feel  a  pleasant  laugh,  but 
I  was  glad  to  think  that  it  sounded  h'ke  any  other.  "  Oh,  it  went 
off  exactly  as  I  might  have  expected,"  I  said,  knowing  that  it 
was  useless  to  hide  my  humiliation,  though  I  might  hide  my 
misery.  "And  consequently,  my  car  and  I  will  also  go  off,  to- 
morrow. As  for  Dick,  he  must  do  as  he  pleases;  but  I  advise  him, 
now  he's  here,  to  stay  for  the  Semana  Santa." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Pilar,  almost  letting  fall  the 
guitar  on  which  she  had  been  playing.  "  Has  —  has  Lady  Monica 
promised  to  go  with  you  —  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  I.  "  But  what  she's  promised  to  another  man 
makes  it  better  that  I  should  go.  She's  engaged  to  Carmona." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  cried  Pilar. 

"  I  shouldn't,  if  anyone  but  herself  had  told  me." 

"She  said  it?" 

"  In  exactly  those  words.  She  said  too,  that  she  didn't  want  to 
see  me  again." 

"Oh  — oh!"  breathed  Pilar.  "Thank  Heaven  for  that.  You 
frightened  me  horribly  —  just  for  a  moment." 

I  stared.  "  And  now  —  " 

"  Now  I  know  there's  some  mistake  —  dreadful,  but  not  too 
dreadful  to  clear  up." 

I  laughed  again,  as  bitterly  as  I  felt  this  time.  "Extraordinary 
idea!  Because  she  says  she  doesn't  want  to  see  me,  there's  a  mis- 
take— " 


230  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  Of  course.  Surely  you  aren't  so  cold-hearted,  so  disloyal,  so 
—  so  stupid  as  to  believe  her  ?  But  tell  me  instantly  all  about  it  — 
everything;  every  word;  every  look." 

"Easily  done,"  I  said,  "if  it  won't  bore  you  all.  There  were 
very  few  of  either;  but  what  there  were  left  nothing  to  the 
imagination." 

"Imagination  indeed!"  exclaimed  Pilar.  "But  go  on." 

So  I  went  on,  and  she  listened  to  the  end  without  interruption, 
as  did  the  two  others,  who  were  only  men,  and  therefore  had  no 
comments  to  make  upon  such  matters. 

As  I  told  the  wretched  story  in  as  few  and  as  bald  words  as 
possible,  Pilar  sat  grave-eyed,  tense-lipped  as  Portia  in  the  Court 
of  Justice  before  her  turn  to  plead.  When  I  finished  she  was 
silent  for  a  moment,  I  thought  because,  after  all,  she  found  her- 
self with  nothing  to  say.  But,  when  her  father  in  his  compassion 
would  have  begun  some  murmur  of  consolation,  she  broke  out 
quickly,  "  I  suppose  she  is  engaged  to  the  Duke,  or  she  wouldn't 
have  said  so." 

"  Not  much  doubt  of  that,"  I  assented. 

"  Nor  any  doubt  of  her  real  feelings.  Poor  little  girl,  I  know 
she's  wishing  she  could  die  to-night.  Those  devils  !  Yes,  I  will 
say  it,  Papa.  I  shall  be  forgiven,  for  they  are.  They've  told  her 
some  hateful  lie,  and  made  her  so  desperate  she  was  ready  to  do 
anything.  Why,  it's  just  come  to  me;  there's  only  one  thing  that 
would  make  a  girl  who  loves  a  man  do  what  she's  done." 

"  What  ?  "  I  broke  in,  breathless ;  for  Pilar's  fire  had  flamed  into 
my  blood  now,  and  I  waited  for  her  answer  as  a  man  waits  for  an 
antidote  to  poison. 

"  Believing  he's  in  love  with  someone  else." 

"  How  could  she  believe  that  ?  Who  is  there  —  "I  stopped. 
My  eyes  met  Pilar's,  and  she  blushed,  stammering  as  she  hurried 
bravely  on.  "  The  greatest  nonsense,  of  course.  But  —  but  —  oh, 
don't  you  remember  how  she  looked  that  evening  at  Manzanares 
when  we  saw  her  last  ?  So  wistful,  as  if  there  were  something  on 
her  mind  she  mustn't  tell  ?  I  caught  her  looking  at  me  once  or 


LET  YOUR  HEART  SPEAK  231 

twice  as  if  she  were  wondering  —  they  must  have  begun,  even 
then,  to  upset  her  mind,  poor,  lonely  child;  but  the  worst  hadn't 
happened ;  she  was  only  a  little  doubtful.  If  you  could  have  spok- 
en to  her,  or  if  I  —  " 

"  I  did  write,"  I  said,  "  though  I've  always  been  afraid  some- 
thing went  wrong  with  that  letter." 

"Ah!"  Filar  caught  at  this,  and  would  have  the  whole  story 
with  every  detail.  I  even  found  myself  confessing  my  old  presenti- 
ment, the  fancy  that  Monica  was  calling  for  me  to  help  her." 

"  I  believe  she  was,  calling  and  praying.  Of  course  she  never 
got  the  letter.  What  was  in  it  ?  If  you  don't  mind  my  asking  ?  " 

"  I  said,  a  crisis  seemed  to  be  coming,  and  she  must  make  up 
her  mind  to  let  me  take  her  away." 

"A  splendid  letter  to  fall  into  her  mother's  hands.  Did  you 
sign  your  real  name  ?  " 

"  No  name  at  all.  I  wrote  in  a  hurry,  and  — " 

"  That's  lucky.  But  even  if  you  had,  Lady  Vale-Avon  couldn't 
have  shown  such  a  letter  to  the  Duke,  he's  too  Spanish  —  too 
Moorish,  I  ought  to  say.  She  wouldn't  have  dared,  as  she  wants 
him  for  a  son-in-law." 

"That  occurred  to  me." 

"  But  there  aren't  many  other  things  she  wouldn't  dare,  to  get 
rid  of  such  a  danger  as  you.  If  she  got  the  letter  —  and  I'm  sure 
she  did  —  there  was  your  handwriting  at  her  mercy.  Supposing 
she—" 

"  I  know  what's  in  your  mind.  But  I  don't  think  such  things 
are  done  —  out  of  novels." 

"  Oh,  aren't  they ;  when  people  are  clever  enough  ?  I  know  of 
one  case  myself.  And  the  girl's  life  was  spoiled.  Lady  Monica's 
shan't  be  though,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  You're  taking  a  great  deal  for  granted,"  I  said.  But  I  felt  as 
if  the  radiance  of  heaven  were  pouring  down  upon  me,  instead  of 
the  pensive  moonlight. 

"  Doesn't  your  heart  tell  you  I'm  right  ?  "  cried  Pilar. 

"Yes!"  I  answered.  "Yes,  you  good  angel,  it  does." 


T 


XXIX 

THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES 

HE  voice  of  some  maid  servant  singing  a  copla  waked 
me  early  in  the  morning,  after  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep. 

El  amor  y  la  naranja 

se  parecen  infinite  ; 

Que  par  muy  dulces  que  seen 

de  agrio  tienen  su  poquito.* 

Yes,  always  a  little  bitter,  I  said  to  myself.  But  if  for  me  there 
were  after  all  to  be  some  sweetness  left  ? 

Last  night  before  parting,  the  Cherub,  Dick  and  I  had  talked 
matters  over  from  every  point  of  view.  I  was  only  too  thankful 
to  take  the  advice  of  one  girl  on  behalf  of  another,  and  give 
to  Monica  the  benefit  of  that  doubt  which  at  first  had  not 
seemed  admissible.  But  even  Pilar  confessed  that  Monica's 
engagement  to  Carmona  made  our  part  a  hundred  times  more 
diflficult. 

Whatever  her  motive  had  been  —  revenge  upon  me  for 
supposed  disloyalty,  dread  of  her  mother,  or  awakened  ambition 
—  she  had  in  any  case  consented  to  marry  him,  and  Pilar  sug- 
gested that  the  dinner  invitations  had  been  sent  out  as  an  excuse 
for  a  public  announcement,  which  would  more  firmly  bind  her 
to  her  promise.  The  news  would  have  flown  all  over  Seville  in 

*Love  and  oranges 
How  similar  are  they. 
For  however  sweet  their  taste, 
They  are  always  a  little  bitter. 

LEONARD  WILLIAMS'  Translation. 
232 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          233 

twenty-four  hours ;  when  the  King  arrived  on  Tuesday  Cannona 
would  certainly  lose  no  time  in  telling  him;  Lady  Vale- A  von 
would  not  wait  for  Monica  to  write  to  the  Princess,  but  would 
probably  wire;  and  no  matter  what  my  private  anxieties  might 
be,  for  Monica's  sake  I  must  do  nothing  openly.  As  for  defying 
Carmona  to  use  his  knowledge  of  my  true  name,  and  challenging 
him  to  fight,  that  must  not  be  thought  of.  Monica's  fair  fame 
would  never  survive  such  a  scandal,  especially  in  Spain,  where  a 
girl's  reputation  is  as  easily  damaged  as  the  down  on  a  butterfly's 
wing. 

But,  as  the  Cherub  said,  there  are  many  roads  which  lead  to 
the  centre  of  the  world.  He  had  learned  at  his  club  that  the  Duke 
had  lent  his  box  in  the  tribune  to  a  friend,  for  such  processions 
as  he  and  his  household  did  not  care  to  see.  That  friend  was  a 
member  of  the  club,  and  through  him  the  Cherub  had  found  out 
that  the  box  in  question  was  next  to  the  royal  box  which  would 
be  occupied  by  the  King,  the  Infanta  Dona  Maria  Teresa,  and 
her  husband.  Immediately  upon  making  this  discovery,  the 
Cherub  had  begun  to  move  heaven  and  earth  to  obtain  a  box 
for  himself,  either  behind,  in  front  of,  or  on  one  side  of  Carmona's 
box.  He  did  not  know  yet  if  he  should  succeed,  for  things  were  not 
done  in  a  moment  in  Spain.  Of  course  all  the  boxes  were  already 
subscribed  for  the  whole  week  by  members  of  the  aristocracy 
and  other  persons  of  importance  in  Seville;  but,  then,  the  Cherub 
had  friends  and  acquaintances  in  every  class.  If  it  were  a  ques- 
tion of  money,  money  would  not  be  spared;  if  it  were  a  question 
of  a  favour  for  a  favour  in  return,  that  favour  would  be  given. 
There  was  hope  that  the  thing  might  be  arranged;  and  once 
Pilar  came  within  speaking  distance  of  Monica,  nothing  short 
of  sudden  death  could  prevent  her  from  telling  the  girl  the 
truth,  vowing  by  all  the  saints  that  she  had  been  deceived  for 
the  one  purpose  of  separating  her  from  me.  If  Monica  could  be 
made  to  believe  that,  she  would  have  courage  to  be  true  in  spite 
of  all ;  and  then  it  would  be  for  me  to  save  her  f r  >m  keeping  the 
engagement  into  which  she  had  been  tricked. 


234        ,  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

As  for  my  going  to  Carmona's  house  and  trying  to  see  Monica, 
such  a  plan  appeared  useless,  as  I  should  certainly  not  be  al- 
lowed to  come  near  her.  Therefore  I  must  wait  with  such  patience 
as  I  could,  and  let  my  friends  help  me  in  the  subtle  ways  favoured 
in  Spain. 

Now,  Palm  Sunday  had  dawned  crystal  clear;  but  Pilar  had 
explained  that  nobody  occupied  the  boxes  and  chairs  to  see  the 
procession  of  palms  in  the  morning;  that,  though  it  was  pretty 
to  see,  it  was  not  one  of  the  great  sights;  and,  as  one  must  be 
waiting  early  outside  the  cathedral,  it  was  unlikely  that  anyone 
from  Carmona's  house  would  be  there.  Still  there  was  the  chance, 
and  I  could  not  afford  to  miss  it ;  so  the  O'Donnels  offered  to  go 
with  me  into  Seville,  Dick,  of  course,  being  of  the  party. 

Consequently,  every  one  at  the  Cortijo  was  astir  by  six;  and 
before  seven  Dick  and  I  were  in  the  patio,  just  in  time  to  greet 
Pilar  utterly  fascinating  in  a  mantilla. 

She  was  dressed  as  a  Spanish  woman  of  the  upper  class 
should  be  dressed  on  Palm  Sunday;  and  though  the  tight- 
fitting,  rich  black  brocade  silk  which  she  wore  would,  in  any 
other  country,  have  seemed  a  costume  not  for  young  girlhood 
but  for  middle  age,  it  suited  her  wonderfully.  Her  clear-skinned, 
heart-shaped  face,  with  its  great  soft  eyes  and  red  lips,  was 
beautiful  in  the  cloudy  frame  of  black  lace;  and  her  piled  hair, 
of  so  dark  a  brown  as  to  appear  black,  except  when  the  sunlight 
burnished  threads  of  gold  in  its  masses,  looked  ruddy  as  the 
leaves  of  a  copper-beech  gleaming  through  the  figured  lace. 

"  By  Jove ! "  exclaimed  Dick,  jumping  to  his  feet  when  he  saw 
her.  No  more  than  that;  but  Pilar  was  woman  enough  to  under- 
stand the  value  of  the  compliment;  and  she  smiled,  patting  the 
flounce  of  her  mantilla  into  still  more  graceful  folds  on  her  breast. 

"  You  think  me  nice  like  this  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I'm  proud  of  my 
mantilla,  you  know.  It  came  to  me  from  my  great-grandmother, 
as  all  the  best  ones  do  come  to  Spanish  girls;  and  I've  two 
lovely  white  mantillas  which  I  wear  on  great  feast  days  when  I 
want  to  be  very  beautiful." 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          235 

"  At  bull-fights  ?  "  asked  Dick,  his  eyes  adoring  her  in  a  way 
he  would  have  laughed  at  in  any  other  man  only  a  few  weeks 
ago. 

"  I  don't  go  to  bull-fights,"  said  Pilar.  "  I  love  the  poor  bulls 
and  horses  so  much,  it  would  make  me  sad  to  see  them  die. 
Though,  if  I  were  a  bull,  I  would  myself  choose  a  brave  death 
in  the  arena,  after  a  life  of  five  glorious  years,  rather  than  the 
slaughter-house,  or  a  weary  existence  of  labour  till  old  age  or 
overstrain  finished  me.  But  I  drive  in  the  paseo  on  the  bull-fight 
days,  and  for  the  feria.  Ay  de  mi  I  A  girl  in  Spain  has  few  other 
chances  to  make  herself  pretty  for  the  world  to  see,  unless  she 
lives  in  Madrid ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  bull-fights,  I  suppose 
many  girls  would  never  get  husbands.  But,  Our  Lady  be  thanked, 
I  do  not  have  to  look  for  one. " 

Did  she  mean  that  there  was  any  understanding  with  Don 
Cipriano  ? 

I  knew  this  was  the  thought  which  flashed  through  Dick's 
mind.  And  if  Pilar  had  been  desirable  in  motoring  days,  she 
was  irresistible  at  home. 

Before  eight  o'clock  the  Gloria  was  at  the  gates,  and  twenty 
minutes  later  we  were  on  foot  in  the  street  of  the  Gran  Capitan, 
mingling  with  the  crowd  who  waited  for  the  first  procession  of 
Semana  Santa  to  pour  out  from  the  cathedral  doors.  But  the 
crowd  was  not  a  dense  one,  and  the  face  I  hoped  to  see  was  not 
there.  "It  will  be  a  long  time  before  anything  happens,"  said 
the  Cherub.  "Here,  when  a  thing  should  be  at  eight,  it  is  at 
nine,  or  maybe  half -past.  What  does  a  little  time  matter?  But 
mass  is  being  said.  Who  knows  that  the  old  Duchess  may  not 
have  had  a  religious  fit,  and  come  to  hear  it,  bringing  her 
friends  ?  " 

No  more  was  needed  to  make  me  anxious  to  go  in;  and  we 
entered  the  cathedral,  which  is,  to  my  mind,  the  most  beautiful 
inspiring,  and  poetic  in  the  world. 

The  two  O'Donnels  flitted  away  in  the  dusk,  mysterious  as  the 
twilight  of  the  gods,  and  we  guessed  that  they  were  going  to 


236  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

hear  mass.  Soon  they  found  us  again.  They  had  not  seen  those 
for  whom  we  searched;  but  the  procession  was  starting. 

We  made  haste  out  before  it,  and  none  too  soon,  for  it  billowed 
forth  after  us  in  a  glitter  of  gold  and  purple  vestments,  and  tall, 
bleached  palm-branches  like  beams  of  moonlight  streaming 
against  the  blue  of  the  morning  sky. 

"They're  not  here,"  said  Pilar,  when  the  last  gleaming 
crucifix  and  waving  palm,  blessed  by  the  bishop,  had  disappear- 
ed. "  I  was  sure  they  wouldn't  come.  And  —  it  does  seem  hard 
to  disappoint  you  —  but  I'm  afraid  they  won't  be  in  their  box 
this  afternoon.  Oh,  we  shall  go,  of  course!  But  that  will  be  the 
time  for  the  Duke  to  lend  the  Conde  de  Ambulato  his  box. 
Thursday  will  be  the  great  day,  when  the  King  will  be  in  the 
royal  box,  and  will  walk  with  his  cofradia  of  the  cigarette- 
makers  before  Our  Lady  of  Victory.  You  know  how  anxious 
the  Duke  is  to  win  back  the  favour  of  the  royal  family;  and  he'll 
hardly  think  it  worth  while  to  sit  through  the  hours  of  a  pro- 
cession unless  he  can  be  next  door  to  the  King,  with  a  chance 
of  an  invitation  to  his  box. " 

This  was  discouraging;  still,  I  determined  to  be  in  the  crowd 
during  the  afternoon;  and  I  knew  well  that,  though  the  splendid 
show  of  Semana  Santa  was  an  old  story  to  the  O'Donnels,  they 
would  not  fail  me  for  a  moment. 

Dick  shamefacedly  bought  from  one  of  many  vendors  an 
armful  of  blessed  palms  for  Pilar  to  tie  under  the  house  windows, 
as  a  protection  against  the  rage  of  thunder-storms  throughout 
the  coming  year;  and  we  drove  to  the  country  with  the  great 
glistening  fronds  blowing  behind  the  motor-car  like  giant 
plumes. 

I  spent  hours  writing,  tearing  up,  and  rewriting  a  letter  to 
Monica  which  Pilar  was  to  try  and  deliver  if  she  could,  and 
when  she  could.  We  lunched  and  did  our  best  to  make  careless 
conversation,  as  if  we  were  not  anxious  and  excited  —  Dick  and 
I  for  our  own  selfish  reasons;  the  two  others  in  sympathy.  We 
talked  of  Seville,  past  and  present  —  once  "  Sultana  of  the 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          237 

South, "  still  beautiful  and  gay,  though  her  reign  is  over.  "  We 
are  very  happy  even  now,  among  ourselves,  we  Se vi llanos, " 
said  the  Cherub.  "  You  should  see  a  tertulia,  if  you  want  to  know 
how  families  can  enjoy  themselves  together.  But  there's  another 
side  of  the  picture,  too.  English  and  American  people  —  there 
are  a  few  —  accuse  us  of  being  unsociable.  They  say  we  never 
give  invitations  to  luncheons  and  dinners  as  people  of  other 
countries  do;  that  a  few  calls  are  exchanged,  and  that  is  all,  in  an 
intercourse,  it  may  be,  of  many  years. " 

"Oh,  I  know  what  they  say!"  laughed  Pilar.  "I  heard  an 
American  girl  give  a  friend  of  hers  a  description  of  families 
she  knew  in  Seville.  '  You  go  to  call,'  said  she;  *  and  if  the  ladies 
are  at  home  (they  won't  be  if  they  can  help  it),  you're  shown 
into  a  shut-up  drawing-room  smelling  of  mustiness.  In  front 
of  the  fireplace,  if  there  is  any,  or  else  the  brazier-table,  a  hard 
yellow  or  red  satin  sofa  is  drawn  up,  an  armchair  on  each  side. 
All  the  rest  of  the  furniture's  ranged  in  a  straight  row  round  the 
wall.  It's  in  the  afternoon,  but  you  wait  till  the  ladies  dress, 
because  if  they're  in  they're  sure  to  be  in  wrappers, unless  it's  so 
late  that  their  carriage  is  ready  for  the  paseo.  After  you're  nearly 
gone  to  sleep,  they  come,  and  you  talk  of  any  uninteresting 
things  they  can  think  of;  never  interesting  ones,  because  they're 
kept  for  intimate  friends'  gossip;  and  the  girls  simper  and  stare 
as  if  you  were  a  curiosity,  because  you're  allowed  to  walk  in  the 
street  without  a  maid.'  That's  being  'sociable'  in  Seville,  ac- 
cording to  the  American  girl;  and  I'm  afraid  that  she's  right 
from  a  foreigner's  point  of  view. " 

All  this,  to  amuse  us ;  but  unfortunately  it  was  far  from  amusing 
to  Dick.  He  sat  looking  introspective,  and  wondering  no  doubt, 
if  Pilar  meant  to  hint  that,  so  far  as  the  door  of  her  heart  was  con- 
cerned, foreigners  might  save  themselves  the  trouble  of  knocking. 

Seeing  him  taciturn,  as  hostess  she  felt  it  her  duty  to  console 
him,  so  when  luncheon  was  over  an  invitation  to  go  and  visit 
Vivillo,  the  beloved  bull,  was  delivered  to  all,  with  an  especially 
beguiling  look  at  Dick.  He  accepted  with  suspicious  alacrity, 


238  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

and  to  please  her  I  said  yes ;  while  the  Cherub,  who  was  evidently 
longing  for  a  siesta,  shrugged  his  shoulders  dutifully.  It  seemed 
that  we  could  see  the  pasture  which  was  Vivillo's  drawing-room 
without  trespassing  upon  Carmona's  land,  on  which  I  should 
have  been  loth  to  set  my  foot,  even  for  Pilar;  but  when,  after 
twenty  minutes'  walk  across  meadows,  we  arrived  at  the  hedge 
which  divided  the  Duke's  ganaderia  from  Colonel  O'Donnel's 
farm,  Dick  would  not  be  satisfied  with  a  distant  inspection  of 
the  grazing  bulls.  Pilar  (denuded  of  her  mantilla,  but  still  in 
the  black  brocade,  ready  for  the  afternoon  in  Seville)  was  going 
to  pay  a  friendly  call  upon  her  darling,  and  Dick  was  resolved 
upon  an  introduction. 

Pilar  cried  gaily  to  a  herdsman  visible  in  the  distance,  and 
joyously  obedient  to  the  girl's  evidently  familiar  voice,  the  young 
fellow  came  running  towards  us,  garrocha  in  hand.  Between  him 
and  the  hedge  which  separated  the  two  properties,  was  a  deep 
ditch  which  no  bull,  save  in  a  state  of  fury,  would  care  to  jump. 
But  not  far  away  a  long  plank  lay  half  hidden  in  rich  grass,  and 
the  ganadero  dragged  it  nearer,  without  a  question,  as  if  he  knew 
already  what  was  expected  of  him.  Having  pushed  it  across  the 
ditch,  to  form  a  bridge  at  the  spot  where  the  hedge  was  thinnest, 
he  took  off  his  hat,  and  welcomed  the  gracious  senor  and  senorita 
home.  Vi villo,  said  he,  was  well,  but  would  be  the  better  for  a  sight 
of  the  senorita,  who  was  the  one  human  being  he  had  seemed 
to  love  since  the  day  of  the  tienta  which  had  proved  him 
brave. 

Yes,  there  he  was  —  the  "  lively  one, "  well  named  indeed !  — 
grazing  for  the  moment  off  there  to  the  south-east.  Could  not 
the  senorita  see  his  brown  back  among  the  grey  and  black  ones, 
farthest  away  ?  But  she  had  only  to  call.  Vivillo  knew  her  voice 
and  would  answer  to  it  as  to  no  other.  It  was  really  a  marvel. 
And  was  it  true  that  she  had  begun  negotiating  for  his  purchase  ? 
Ah,  it  was  a  pity  that  such  a  toro  bravo  would  not  have  his  chance 
to  fight  in  some  splendid  corrida,  where  the  noblest  bulls  of 
Spain  must  meet  the  most  skilled  of  the  espadas.  He  —  Mateo  — 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          239 

had  often  thought  what  a  grand  spectacle  it  would  be  to  see 
Fuentes  and  Vivillo  together.  But  —  well,  better  waste  the  best 
bull  that  ever  grazed  on  these  pastures,  and  please  the  senorita. 
For  her  interests  it  was  a  good  thing  that  the  Senor  Duque 
seldom  or  never  troubled  to  come  and  see  los  toros,  for  if  his  eye 
once  lit  upon  Vivillo  he  would  never  part  with  him  for  any  money, 
except  for  the  honour  of  the  corrida. 

"Then  be  sure  you  don't  let  the  Duke  have  a  hint!"  laughed 
Pilar,  happy  and  fearless  as  a  boy,  as  she  squeezed  through  the 
hedge  and  tripped  across  the  plank,  followed  by  Dick. 

"  She  is  perfectly  safe, "  said  the  Cherub,  in  answer  to  an  un- 
easy look  from  me.  "She's  as  well  known  over  there  almost  as 
the  herdsmen  who  tend  the  bulls  from  their  birth;  besides,  she 
has  some  curious  influence  over  animals.  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing like  it  in  another  human  being,  though  I  have  read  of  such 
things.  Since  she  was  a  child,  I  have  no  longer  had  any  fear  for 
her  over  there;  and  Senor  Waring  is  safe  also,  while  he  keeps 
with  her  and  Mateo,  unless  he  were  foolish  enough  to  make 
some  demonstration.  But  for  me,  I  am  no  friend  of  los  toros  when 
they  are  at  home. " 

Dick  and  Pilar  were  in  Carmona's  pasture  now,  moving  to- 
wards a  troop  of  grazing  bulls,  magnificent  creatures  whose 
terrible  horns  and  silken  hides  (branded  with  double  circles 
under  a  crown)  glittered  in  the  sun.  Scarcely  a  head  was  tossed 
in  honour  of  the  new-comers ;  but  as  Pilar  raised  her  girlish  voice 
to  give  a  peculiar  call,  I  saw  a  dark  form  in  the  distance  separate 
itself  from  a  group.  Then  a  brown,  lean-flanked  bull,  nobly 
armed  with  horns  grand  as  the  antlers  of  a  stag,  bounded  away 
from  his  companions,  and  rushed  in  so  straight  a  line  towards 
Pilar,  that  in  spite  of  the  Cherub's  words,  my  heart  was  wrenched. 

But  I  need  not  have  feared.  While  the  young  herdsman  and 
Dick  stood  by  passive  and  admiring,  this  toro  bravo  of  famous 
fighting  breed  reduced  his  run  to  a  canter,  and  trotted  up  to 
Pilar  as  tamely  as  if  he  had  been  a  belled  cabestro. 

The  girl,  opening  a  large  knotted  handkerchief  which  she  had 


240  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

brought  filled  with  sweet  biscuit,  took  a  step  or  two  forward  to 
meet  the  bull.  Nestling  against  his  huge  head,  powerful  enough 
to  bear  up  a  horse  and  rider  impaled  upon  his  horns,  she  calmly 
fed  the  great  beast  from  her  store.  Never  could  there  have  been  a 
more  beautiful  picture  since  the  day  when  another  bull  sub- 
mitted to  the  caresses  of  Europa. 

Vivillo  scarcely  deigned  to  look  at  Dick,  who  made  some  bids 
for  his  favour.  All  his  chivalrous  soul  of  toro  bravo  was  absorbed 
in  pleasure  at  Pilar's  return,  gratitude  for  her  remembrance  of 
him.  I  would  scarcely  have  believed  that  it  could  be  real,  had  I 
not  seen  it. 

For  ten  minutes  she  stayed,  Dick  close  at  her  side,  always 
ignored  by  the  bull;  then  she  returned  and  walked  towards  us, 
slowly,  the  herdsman  keeping  near  and  Vivillo  marching  after 
in  a  resolute  way  which  would  have  turned  grey  the  hair  of  a 
nervous  man  or  woman. 

But  if  Dick  were  conscious  of  his  nerves  in  such  an  unusual 
situation,  he  did  not  show  it.  His  head  was  bent  over  Pilar's, 
talking  earnestly,  and  though  she  never  looked  up  at  him  in 
answer,  once  she  broke  out  laughing,  so  merrily,  I  wondered 
what  he  had  said. 

In  our  own  meadow  again,  safely  delivered  from  the  bulls, 
Pilar  slipped  instantly  to  her  father's  side  and  began  chattering 
about  Vivillo,  who  stood  by  the  ditch  looking  wistfully  after  her 
as  he  chewed  his  last  biscuit.  Dick  and  I  were  thus  thrown  to- 
gether; and  though  Dick's  face  is  no  tell-tale,  I  guessed  somehow 
that  his  mind  was  not  as  calm  as  his  features. 

"  I  should  think  that  might  have  been  a  little  upsetting  to  an 
amateur, "  I  said. 

"Maybe,"  answered  Dick,  absent-mindedly.  "But  it  isn't 
that,  if  I'm  looking  queer.  Say  Ramon,  I've  done  it. " 

"What?" 

"  Proposed  to  a  girl  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  What's  more, 
I  grovelled.  I  called  Vivillo  a  lamb,  though  at  the  moment  he 
was  looking  more  like  several  dozen  lions.  I  told  her  if  she'd 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES  241 

marry  me,  she  could  have  him  and  any  other  bulls  sitting  about 
on  our  hearthrug;  that  we'd  have  a  nice  big  one  on  purpose." 

"  That  ought  to  be  an  inducement  —  even  from  a  heretic. " 

"Oh,  confound  you,  don't  harp  on  that.  I'm  mad  about  the 
girl.  I  know  all  you're  suffering,  and  if  I  ever  put  on  superior 
airs,  I  take  them  back  and  swallow  them." 

Even  a  man  heartbroken  would  have  had  to  grin;  and  Pilar 
had  persuaded  me  not  to  be  heartbroken  yet.  If  I  laughed,  I 
sympathized  too,  and  liked  Dick  better  than  ever  because  we 
were  eating  the  same  bitter-sweet  orange  of  which  the  voice 
had  sung.  It  seemed  that  Pilar  had  neither  accepted  nor  refused 
him,  but  had  asked  for  time  to  think ;  and  he  would  have  been  a 
little  encouraged  if  she  had  not  suddenly  said,  "Don  Cipriano 
loves  bulls. " 

At  five  o'clock  we  spun  into  Seville,  with  the  car,  for  nobody 
knew  at  what  time  the  procession  might  begin;  nobody  ever  did 
know,  it  appeared.  And  Pilar  was  no  longer  merrily  boyish,  but 
feminine  and  seductive  again  in  her  black  mantilla. 

The  vast  oblong  of  the  Plaza  de  la  Constitution  was  already 
humming  with  the  excitement  of  a  moving  crowd.  The  lane 
between  chairs  and  tribune  was  thronged  with  the  poor  of  the 
town  and  peasants  from  the  country,  who  would  have  no  seats 
and  must  press  for  places  to  see  the  procession ;  but  there  was  no 
ill-natured  pushing,  and  gentlest  care  was  taken  not  to  crush 
the  toddling,  star-eyed  children  who  tumbled  under  people's 
feet.  Soldiers  laughed  and  edged  their  way  past  clinging  groups 
of  pretty  girls.  Civil  guards,  looking  as  if  they  had  stepped  out 
of  old  pictures,  strove  to  keep  order,  their  shouts  lost  among  the 
cries  which  filled  the  air;  cries  of  water-sellers  bearing  big 
earthen  vessels;  cries  of  those  who  wheeled  cargoes  of  roasted 
peanuts  in  painted  ships;  cries  of  crab-sellers;  cries  of  shabby 
old  men,  and  neat,  white-capped  boys,  hawking  fresh-fried 
calientes,  sugared  cakes,  and  all  kinds  of  dulces  on  napkin- 
covered  trays. 

English  and  American  tourists  in  panamas  wandered  through 


242  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

the  throng  searching  for  their  numbered  chairs;  vendors  of 
seats  shouted  reduced  prices;  bareheaded  women  wkh  brown 
babies  in  their  arms  offered  programmes  of  the  week's  pro- 
cessions ;  tattered  boys  shrieked  the  daily  papers,  and  coloured 
post-cards ;  while  from  the  balconies  of  private  houses  ladies  in 
black  mantillas,  children  in  white,  and  foreigners  in  gay  colours 
looked  down  upon  the  scene. 

So  passed  an  hour,  while  the  boxes  and  best  seats  began  to 
fill.  Spanish  families  of  the  middle  class,  men  and  women  in 
black,  took  front  seats  of  the  tribune,  where  the  empty  royal 
box  made  a  brave  splash  of  gold  and  crimson ;  but  more  slowly 
came  members  of  the  aristocracy  and  officers  in  blue  and  gold; 
and,  jostled  by  the  crowd,  I  waited  in  suspense. 

Colonel  O'Donnel  had  gone  to  his  club  for  news  of  the  box 
which,  by  strategic  means,  he  had  been  trying  to  get.  Pilar  and 
Dick  had  gone  with  him,  to  remain  in  the  car  chaperoned  by 
Ropes,  until  he  should  come  out;  so  that  I  had  no  means  of 
learning  whether  the  Cherub  had  triumphed  or  failed.  All  I 
knew  was,  that  a  club  acquaintance  whose  wife  was  ill,  might 
be  induced  to  offer  his  box,  close  to  the  royalties,  to  a  second 
acquaintance  in  exchange  for  one  directly  behind  that  which 
the  Duke  of  Carmona  had  taken.  If  this  could  be  arranged,  the 
O'Donnels  would  be  given  the  latter,  in  exchange  for  —  only 
the  Cherub  knew  what.  Borne  back  and  forth  with  the  moving 
throng,  like  a  leaf  in  an  eddy,  my  eyes  seldom  strayed  for  long 
from  the  tribune.  Would  the  Carmona  household  come  ?  Would 
the  O'Donnels  be  their  neighbours  ? 

At  last  I  saw  Pilar  and  the  two  men  entering  the  tribune. 
Yes,  they  had  succeeded,  I  could  tell  from  the  Cherub's  descrip- 
tion of  the  Duke's  box.  But  Carmona's  was  still  empty. 

The  procession  had  not  yet  appeared,  though  the  first  cofradia 
had  been  due  in  the  Plaza  an  hour  ago,  and  twilight  was  falling 
over  the  vast  square,  ethereally  clear  and  pale.  Only  the  figure 
of  Faith  on  the  soaring  Giralda,  turned  as  if  to  watch  the  scene, 
still  glittered  in  the  sun;  and  its  dazzling  brilliance  had  faded 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          243 

before  a  bugle  note  rang  out,  poignant  as  a  cry  of  bitter  sorrow 
from  a  breaking  heart. 

This  was  the  herald  of  a  brotherhood  with  its  sacred  images; 
and  the  police  began  to  sweep  the  crowd  before  them  out  of  the 
lane  between  the  chairs  and  tribune.  Slowly  the  flock  was  forced 
along  by  the  shepherd  dogs ;  and  as  the  way  cleared,  forth  from 
the  dim  tunnel  of  Las  Sierpes  marched,  with  arms  reversed,  a 
squad  of  civil  guards;  then  a  company  of  mounted  soldiers, 
their  bugles  still  wailing  that  sad  warning  of  some  piteous 
spectacle  to  come. 

The  cavalry  passed ;  it  was  but  a  modern  preface  to  a  mediaeval 
poem  which,  following  closely,  brought  with  it  into  the  Plaza 
sad  ghosts,  grim  ghosts,  sainted  ghosts  of  long  past  days. 

Headed  by  one  of  their  number  bearing  aloft  an  exquisite 
crucifix,  walked  a  band  of  penitents  carrying  great  lighted 
candles.  Their  white  robes  of  linen  swept  in  long  pointed  trains 
over  the  cobbles,  the  silver  buckles  on  their  black  shoes  glinting 
with  each  step ;  through  the  narrow  slits  in  the  blue  capuchas, 
whose  conical  peaks  tapered  far  above  the  wearers'  heads,  their 
dark  eyes  burned  with  mysterious  intensity.  Two  and  two  they 
moved,  noiseless  as  bats  save  for  the  tap  of  silver  batons,  making 
an  avenue  of  gliding  stars,  like  will-o'-the-wisps,  from  the  black 
mouth  of  Las  Sierpes  across  the  length  of  the  Plaza. 

Then  suddenly,  in  that  dark,  distant  tunnel  flashed  something 
luminous,  something  that  moved,  swung  in  air  higher  than  the 
heads  of  men,  something  that  was  like  a  great  blazing  casket  of 
jewels  or  a  cloud  of  fireflies. 

It  came  on,  halting,  starting  again,  reaching  the  open  square, 
and  revealing  itself  as  an  illuminated  platform  supporting  a 
crucified  Christ,  life  size,  with  no  detail  spared  of  tragedy  and 
torture. 

One  of  those  fine  sculptures  of  painted  wood,  such  as  I  had 
seen  at  Valladolid,  the  sixteenth  century  artist  had  spent  his 
soul  in  showing  to  believers  what  Christ  had  suffered  that  they 
might  be  saved;  and  so  startling  was  the  appeal  of  this  terrible 


244  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

figure  to  the  sympathies,  that  for  an  instant  I  found  myself  for- 
getting everything  except  a  wild  desire  to  rescue  it. 

As  the  paso,  with  its  quivering  silver  lamps  and  strewn  flowers, 
came  near  to  where  I  stood,  I  could  see,  beneath  the  long  velvet 
curtains  which  draped  the  platform,  twenty  pairs  or  more  of 
slowly  moving  feet;  and  the  frequent  pauses  were  accounted  for. 

I  watched  the  heart-rending  figure  pass  round  the  corner  of 
the  Plaza,  out  of  sight,  swallows  wheeling  overhead  as  if  once 
more  to  pluck  the  thorns  from  that  bleeding  brow;  and  as  it 
vanished,  far  away  in  the  dusk  of  Las  Sierpes  appeared  another 
illumined  mystery  of  clustering  stars.  Out  from  darkness  into 
hyacinth  twilight  it  floated,  a  canopied  platform  of  purple  velvet, 
crusted  with  silver  and  gold;  under  the  glittering  roof  a  virgin, 
who  seemed  to  stand  praying  in  a  garden  of  tall  lilies,  lit  by  a 
sacred  silver  flame. 

The  crowding  lilies,  as  the  paso  came  nearer,  were  only  white, 
waxen  candles  after  all,  but  in  their  light  the  image  of  the  Virgin 
gained  a  womanliness  and  beauty  extraordinary.  Her  gorgeous 
trailing  robe  of  gold-embroidered  velvet,  her  under  gown  of  satin 
scintillating  with  diamonds,  her  blazing  crown  of  jewels,  the 
sparkling  rings  on  her  delicate  fingers,  her  necklaces,  her  brace- 
lets, were  such  as  the  Mother  of  Christ  never  dreamed  of  in  her 
simple  life;  and  half  the  watchers  knew  grinding  poverty,  which 
a  few  of  her  gems  might  relieve. 

That  thought,  I  knew,  would  leap  to  many  minds;  but  they 
would  be  the  minds  of  foreigners;  and  I,  being  Spanish,  under- 
stood. I  saw  what  this  procession  of  emblems  meant  to  these 
people,  rich  and  poor  alike.  They  were  being  reminded,  in  the 
realistic  and  dramatic  way  which  appealed  best  to  their  imagina- 
tions, of  all  Christ  had  suffered  for  them,  of  all  the  mother- 
woman  had  endured.  The  gems,  which  to  alien  minds  were 
incongruous,  crystallized  their  tears,  their  love,  their  gratitude; 
and  Our  Lady's  jewels  were  the  jewels  of  the  poor  —  rich  posses- 
sions which  could  not  be  taken  from  them,  joys  for  ever,  objects 
of  their  highest  pride. 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FLAMING  LILIES          245 

Bending  in  gentle  grief,  the  fair  face  bowed,  the  graceful 
figure  passed  in  fragrance  of  lilies,  perfumed  wax,  and  incense 
sending  blue  clouds  from  silver  censors  swung  by  white-robed 
boys.  With  her,  as  she  moved,  went  music  —  our  Lady's  own 
music,  sad  and  beautiful  as  moonlight  on  a  lonely  grave,  cool  as 
peace  after  hot  pain. 

Now  the  box  in  the  tribune  I  had  watched  so  long  was  filled 
with  strangers.  Pilar  had  been  right.  Carmona  had  given  his 
place  to  friends.  But  with  that  soft,  haunting  music  in  my  ears, 
sweet  as  remembered  days  of  joy,  I  could  not  fear  anything. 
Somehow  I  was  at  peace,  with  good  thoughts  in  my  mind  and 
hope  in  my  heart. 

Brotherhoods  in  black,  brotherhoods  in  purple,  and  paso 
after  paso  went  by;  Christus  bending  under  the  weight  of  the 
cross,  Christus  praying  among  sleeping  disciples  in  Gethsemane, 
Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary,  Our  Lady  of  Tears,  flaming  rivers  of 
light,  suns  rising  out  of  purple  clouds. 

Night  folded  over  the  great  square,  with  its  crowd  of  people. 
No  one  had  gone  away.  Electric  lights  burst  out  and  made  the 
scene  like  the  auditorium  of  some  vast  theatre;  but  the  stage 
and  auditorium  were  one.  Then  the  full  moon,  yellow  as  honey, 
looked  over  the  thronged  roof-gardens  of  tall  houses  opposite 
the  tribune,  and  sailed  high  in  heaven. 

It  was  past  nine  o'clock  when  Colonel  O'Donnel  touched  me 
on  the  shoulder. 

"  We  saw  you  long  ago, "  he  said.  "  You  are  so  tall.  Shall  we 
go  home  to  dinner?  But  on  Thursday  you  will  have  another 
chance. " 

Thursday!  and  there  were  three  days  in  between.  I  wished 
that  he  could  have  left  me  in  my  dream  of  peace  as  long  as  it 
might  last. 


XXX 

THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS 

LTKE  a  dream  the  three  days  passed;  but  not  a  dream 
of  peace,  for  that  I  lost  with  the  last  echo  of  the  Virgin 
music  and  the  fragrance  of  her  lilies. 

Dick  thought  himself  miserable,  but  I  would  glad- 
ly have  changed  my  state  of  mind  for  his.  Sometimes  he  hoped, 
sometimes  he  despaired,  but  at  all  times  he  was  really  very  happy, 
if  only  he  had  known  it.  He  enjoyed  visiting  the  Murillos  with 
Pilar  and  the  Cherub  when  I  had  no  heart  to  go.  He  borrowed 
the  motor  to  whisk  them  out  to  Italica.  He  went  with  the  O'Don- 
nels  late  every  afternoon  for  the  drive  in  the  fashionable  paseo 
along  the  river  side,  as  pleased  with  the  five  handsome  mules, 
in  their  smart  Spanish  harness  of  white  and  crimson  rope  and 
brown  leather,  as  if  they  had  been  his  own. 

As  for  me,  I  would  not  go,  although  Dick  urged  that,  in  the 
never-ending  double  line  of  fine  carriages,  we  might  meet  the 
Duchess  of  Carmona's.  But  I  did  not  dare  to  see  Monica  again 
after  what  had  happened  unless  there  were  some  hope  that  Pilar 
could  speak  for  me,  or  that  I  could  speak  for  myself.  Still,  I 
could  not  resist  questioning  the  family  in  the  evening.  Had  they 
heard  tidings  of  her  ?  Had  they  seen  her  ? 

Presently  there  was  news,  but  not  good  news.  The  engage- 
ment was  known,  and  was  being  talked  of  everywhere.  The  story 
was  that  the  wedding  would  be  soon,  as  the  Duchess  was  not 
strong,  and  professed  herself  anxious  to  see  her  son  married. 
Gossip  said  also  that  the  marriage  would  be  celebrated  in  Madrid 
directly  after  the  festivities  of  the  royal  wedding  were  over,  so 

246 


THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS    247 

that  the  young  duchess,  as  the  wife  of  a  grandee  of  Spain,  could 
become  lady-in-waiting  to  the  bride-queen,  when  los  Reyes  re- 
turned from  their  honeymoon  at  La  Granja. 

The  Cherub  told  me  these  things  only  because  I  insisted  on 
hearing  all;  and  on  Wednesday  evening  I  dragged  further  de- 
tails from  Pilar.  They  had  passed  the  Duchess,  Lady  Vale-Avon, 
and  Monica  in  the  Carmona  carriage,  the  handsomest  in  Seville ; 
and  the  Duke  had  been  on  horseback,  looking  more  attractive 
than  Pilar  had  ever  seen  him  in  the  chulo  costume,  worn  at  times 
as  an  amusing  affectation  by  some  young  aristocrats  of  Andalucia. 
I  could  picture  him  in  the  wide-brimmed  grey  sombrero,  the 
tight  short  jacket,  and  trousers  fitting  close  as  a  glove  until  they 
widened  below  the  knee.  Yes,  the  dress  would  suit  him ;  and  Pilar 
admitted  reluctantly  that  he  was  a  perfect  rider.  I  was  horribly 
jealous,  ready  to  fancy  that,  after  all,  Monica  had  actually  be- 
gun to  care  for  him. 

There  had  been  a  procession  on  Wednesday,  but  it  was  not  an 
affair  of  importance;  and  with  Thursday,  and  the  presence  of 
the  King,  all  the  greatest  events  of  this  Semana  Santa  were  to 
begin. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  there  was  washing  of  poor  men's  feet 
by  the  great  ecclesiastics  in  the  cathedral,  the  King  remaining  at 
the  Alcazar  to  bathe  —  as  Dick  put  it  —  a  few  carefully  selected 
feet  on  his  own  account,  as  a  sign  of  humility.  Later,  would  come 
the  most  splendid  procession  of  the  week,  the  King  walking  with 
his  own  cojradia;  in  the  evening,  the  Miserere  in  the  cathedral, 
and  processions  all  night,  till  mass  on  Good  Friday  morning.  To 
myself  I  said,  therefore,  that  I  was  to  have  two  more  chances: 
the  one  for  which  I  depended  upon  Pilar  in  the  afternoon;  the 
one  for  which  I  depended  on  an  inspiration  of  my  own  in  the 
evening.  For  all  the  world  was  going  to  hear  the  Miserere. 

Though  it  was  a  week  for  penitence  and  fasting,  Seville  — 
honoured  by  the  King  —  thrilled  with  excitement.  Thousands 
of  strangers  had  poured  into  the  town  for  this  day,  and  the  crowds 
were  three  times  as  dense  as  on  Sunday.  Though  there  had  been 


248  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

disquieting  rumours,  whispers  of  anarchist  plots  and  bombs,  the 
police  had  been  alert;  the  King  had  taken  a  swift  gunboat  up  the 
Guadalquivir,  instead  of  arriving  by  special  train  from  Cadiz, 
had  reached  Seville  safely;  and  now  anxiety  was  forgotten.  All 
the  town  poured  into  the  Plaza  de  la  Constitution  more  than  an 
hour  before  there  was  any  hope  that  the  procession  might  begin ; 
and  I  was  in  the  crowd. 

The  boxes  filled  earlier  than  before,  many  of  the  ladies  no 
longer  in  black,  but  wearing  Paris  hats  and  pale-tinted  dresses, 
though  to-morrow  there  would  be  black  mantillas  again,  and  red 
carnations.  Pilar,  Dick,  and  Colonel  O'Donnel  were  in  their 
places,  and  though  the  Duke's  box  was  still  empty,  I  was  sure 
I  should  not  be  disappointed  to-day.  "He'll  appear  about  the 
time  the  King  does,"  I  was  saying  to  myself,  when  suddenly 
there  came  a  stir  in  the  royal  box.  The  mayor  and  town  coun- 
cillors walked  in,  looking  important;  four  giant  halberdiers  of 
the  royal  guard  took  position,  each  in  a  corner  of  the  box.  Then 
rose  a  shout,  "Viva  el  Rey!"  and  against  the  crimson  velvet 
draperies  the  figure  of  the  tall  young  King  in  white  uniform 
stood  out  like  a  slender  statue  of  marble. 

He  was  accompanied  by  his  sister,  the  Infanta,  and  her  hus- 
band, three  or  four  ladies,  and  a  retinue  of  decorated  officers;  but 
for  an  instant  I  saw  only  the  King,  because  —  rebel  as  I  was 
supposed  to  be  —  my  hat  waved  as  high  and  my  cheers  rang  as 
loudly  as  any  in  the  crowd. 

I  had  not  seen  his  face  —  that  day  at  Biarritz  long  ago  — 
when  his  automobile  stopped  for  want  of  petrol.  He  had  worn  his 
motor-mask,  and  had  not  removed  it,  for  he  was  incognito;  but 
now,  as  he  bowed  in  answer  to  the  people's  greeting,  the  young 
face  was  noble  under  the  silver  helmet.  His  smile  brought  a  deep 
dimple  to  either  cheek,  and  a  pleasant  light  to  the  brown  eyes. 
I  was  proud  of  my  King,  and  found  myself  wishing  that  I  could 
serve  him,  though  it  seemed  that  that  could  never  be;  and  with  a 
sigh  for  the  perversities  of  fate  I  looked  away,  only  to  receive  a 
shock  of  surprise. 


THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS     249 

Among  the  ladies  with  the  Infanta  were  the  Duchess  of  Car- 
mona,  Lady  Vale-Avon,  and  Monica.  With  the  officers  and 
friends  of  the  King  stood  the  Duke,  his  dark  face  radiating  satis- 
faction, as  if  this  were  the  crowning  moment  of  his  life. 

Not  only  was  Monica  with  the  man  as  his  fiancee,  but  she  was 
dressed,  in  compliment  to  him,  like  a  girl  of  Spain.  She  wore  a 
mantilla  such  as  the  Infanta  wore,  and  so  bright  was  her  hair,  so 
fair  her  skin  framed  in  the  black  flounce  of  lace,  that  she  was 
almost  as  much  stared  at  as  the  King.  On  her  breast,  pinning 
the  folds  of  the  mantilla,  there  was  a  glint  of  crimson ;  and  looking 
closely,  I  made  it  out  to  be  a  large  brooch  of  rubies,  forming  the 
famous  "  No.  8  Do,"  the  motto  of  Seville.  Only  the  Duke  could 
have  given  her  this,  I  thought;  and  she  had  accepted  it! 

There  was  no  more  hope,  then.  It  did  not  matter  that  her  un- 
expected presence  in  the  royal  box  would  prevent  Pilar  from 
speaking,  or  giving  her  my  letter.  Still,  I  clung  desperately  to  the 
one  chance  left;  the  cathedral  and  the  Miserere. 

Hardly  were  the  royalties  and  their  friends  settled  in  the  red- 
draped  box  when  the  next  brotherhood  marched  out  from  Las 
Sierpes,  and  halted  their  first  paso  before  the  King,  that  he  might 
see  it  well.  He  was  on  his  feet,  his  head  bared  and  bowed ;  and 
while  he  stood  veiled  in  rising  incense,  some  emotional  soul  in  the 
audience  broke  into  a  Moorish  wail,  the  prayer  song  or  saeta  of 
the  people,  improvising  words  which  caught  the  popular  fancy. 

A  murmur  of  approval  ran  through  the  crowd,  which  pressed 
close,  in  spite  of  the  police;  and  as  all  eyes  for  the  moment  turned 
upon  the  King,  or  upon  the  white-haired  peasant  singer,  a  thing 
happened  which  caught  my  attention. 

The  velvet  curtain  which  hid  the  bearers  of  the  paso  resting 
before  the  royal  box,  parted  very  slightly  at  one  side,  as  if  some- 
one were  peering  out;  then  a  hand  darted  forth  and  received 
from  a  man  in  a  black  coat,  who  stood  with  his  back  half-turned 
to  me,  a  faded  bouquet  of  flowers,  arranged  Spanish  fashion  in  a 
hard,  stiff  pyramid. 

Quick  as  that  darting  hand  a  thought  flashed  through  my 


250  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

brain.  In  a  few  seconds  the  paso  would  be  moving  on ;  the  bearers 
were  bracing  themselves  for  a  new  effort.  That  bouquet!  if  it 
should  hold  the  threatened  bomb  ?  This  was  the  moment  for  such 
an  attempt  at  wrecking  the  royal  box,  for  the  King  was  a  member 
of  the  next  brotherhood  that  must  pass;  and  soon  he  would  be 
leaving  his  sister  and  friends  to  walk  with  it,  perhaps  not  return- 
ing to  his  box  that  day. 

The  passing  of  light  is  no  more  swift  than  was  the  flight  of 
these  thoughts ;  and  without  waiting  to  calculate  the  cost  to  my- 
self, thinking  only  of  the  King  and  of  the  girl  I  loved,  I  instantly 
thrust  both  hands  between  the  curtains,  following  the  flowers  as 
they  were  passed  in.  I  grasped  the  bouquet  firmly  round  the  stiff 
base  of  the  pyramid,  and  pulled  it  out  before  the  hidden  man 
who  had  received  it  knew  that  it  had  not  been  withdrawn  by  his 
confederate.  It  was  all  over  in  a  second,  and  I  had  the  bouquet. 
Also  I  had  identified  the  man  who  pushed  it  through  the  curtains 
of  the  paso,  though  which  among  the  twenty  or  twenty-five  con- 
cealed bearers  had  taken  it  from  him  I  could  not  tell. 

Whether  my  act  had  been  wise  or  foolish,  it  was  done,  and  the 
paso  had  moved  on,  carrying  the  secret  of  one  beating  heart 
under  the  curtained  platform. 

Prying  cautiously  among  the  tightly  banked  flowers,  my  blood 
quickened  as  I  touched  something  round  and  hard,  a  thing 
about  the  size  of  a  large  orange,  fastened  into  the  centre  of  the 
pyramid  by  a  network  of  thin  wire.  Intuition  had  not  played  me 
a  trick.  There  was  death  in  this  bunch  of  roses,  death  for  many, 
perhaps.  Though  it  was  of  first  importance  to  get  the  bomb  as 
far  away  as  possible  from  the  King  and  from  Monica,  and  to 
render  it  harmless,  I  would  not  give  up  my  pursuit  of  the  man  in 
the  black  coat,  who  was  fighting  his  way  through  the  crowd,  only 
a  few  yards  in  front  of  me, —  a  square-set  figure,  in  the  holiday 
clothes  of  a  respectable  workman.  I  saw  only  his  back  now, 
every  muscle  tense  in  his  desire  to  escape  the  vengeance  on  his 
track;  but  I  had  seen  his  face  for  an  instant,  and  could  identify 
it  anywhere. 


THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS    251 

What  if,  in  his  desperation,  he  turned,  and  in  the  hope  of 
saving  himself  accused  me  of  the  crime  he  would  have  committed  ? 
It  but  needed  that  to  ruin  me  —  after  Barcelona,  and  this  long 
journey  to  Seville,  where  the  King  was  due.  Would  any  explana- 
tion I  might  make  be  credited,  when  the  bomb  was  in  my  hand  ? 

I  pushed  the  crowding  thoughts  out  of  my  mind.  There  were 
other  tilings  to  think  of  —  the  bomb  itself,  what  to  do  with  it; 
and  the  man  to  be  followed. 

Meanwhile  I  was  moving  on  after  that  broad  back  of  which  I 
must  not  lose  sight,  and  away  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
royal  box.  I  was  in  the  lane  of  the  procession,  close  in  front  of  the 
long  ranks  of  occupied  chairs,  and  opposite  the  tribune.  There 
were  only  two  persons  abreast  in  the  moving  line  which  carried 
me  along,  driven  on  by  the  police,  but  we  were  tightly  packed, 
pressed  against  on  one  side  by  the  knees  of  people  in  the  chairs, 
on  the  other  by  the  purple  brotherhood  preceding  another 
paso.  The  situation  seemed  desperate,  since  to  give  an  alarm 
would  endanger  the  crowd  as  well  as  jeopardize  my  future;  and 
a  panic  would  be  a  calamity. 

Suddenly  the  cry  of  a  water-seller  struck  my  ear  sharply. 
"  Agua !  —  clear  as  crystal  and  cold  as  mountain  snow.  Agua ! " 

He  was  just  before  me  with  his  earthen  vessel.  "  Sell  me  your 
jar,"  I  said.  "  No,  I  don't  want  a  glass  of  water.  I  want  the  jar  — 
for  a  curiosity.  Twenty  pesetas  for  it." 

This  offer  saved  questionings.  The  vessel  with  its  contents  was 
worth  two  pesetas  to  the  vendor,  perhaps,  and,  lest  I  should 
change  my  mind,  its  owner  hastily  handed  over  his  jar  and  pock- 
eted my  silver.  Even  now  I  had  to  wait  for  an  opening  in  the 
throng,  till  I  had  been  pushed  on  as  far  as  the  lane  leading  from 
the  square  to  the  Plaza  de  San  Fernando;  and  there,  to  my  joy, 
I  jostled  against  Ropes.  Without  a  word  of  explanation,  I  said, 
"  Follow  that  man  in  the  cloth  cap  with  the  black  coat  and  red 
tie.  Get  hold  of  him;  take  care  he  doesn't  knife  or  shoot  you. 
Don't  let  him  go  —  and  wait  for  me." 

This  was  all  Ropes  needed.  "  Right,  sir,"  said  he,  and  forged 


252  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

after  the  black  back,  which  in  this  freer  space  was  gaining  dis- 
tance. 

Unexpectedly  relieved  of  my  second  task,  carefully  shielding 
the  bouquet  with  the  water-jar  I  worked  my  way  into  the  lane, 
and  struck  the  head  of  the  earthen  vessel  against  a  stone  coping. 

The  porous  clay  cracked  like  an  egg-shell,  the  top  coming  off 
in  one  piece,  with  a  few  flying  splinters;  and  I  pressed  the  bou- 
quet deep  into  the  water. 

This  was  the  best  I  could  do  at  the  moment,  though,  if  the 
bomb  was  made  with  picric  acid,  I  had  accomplished  nothing. 
I  could  only  hope;  and  pressing  on  I  came  up  with  Ropes,  who 
had  collared  his  man  and  jammed  him  against  a  wall. 

Not  a  sound  had  the  wretch  uttered.  He  knew  that,  if  he  resist- 
ed, he  would  be  instantly  denounced  and  torn  to  pieces  by  a 
crowd  not  likely  to  wait  for  clear  proof  of  such  an  accusation. 
Since  he  had  failed,  it  was  better  to  trust  to  the  mercy  of  his  cap- 
tor and  of  the  police  than  to  the  thousands  wild  with  enthusiasm 
for  the  King.  Fortunately  for  him,  as  for  us,  the  crowd  had  some- 
thing better  to  do  than  stop  to  watch  what  they  took  for  some 
trifling  private  quarrel. 

"He  tried  to  knife  me,"  said  Ropes;  "but  I  stopped  that. 
Knife's  in  my  pocket.  What  next,  sir  ?  " 

It  was  characteristic  that  he  did  not  ask  what  the  man  had 
done. 

"Give  the  brute  up  to  the  police,"  I  answered  in  English. 
"  He  was  with  another  chap  whom  I've  lost,  in  a  plot  to  throw  a 
bomb  at  the  royal  box;  and  the  bomb's  in  this  water-jar." 

For  the  first  time  Ropes'  face  lost  its  imperturbable  expression. 
"What,  sir!"  he  exclaimed,  "after  your  troubles  —  excuse  my 
mentioning  them  —  you  concern  yourself  in  an  affair  like  this ! " 

"  I've  no  choice.  We  can't  let  this  beast  escape.  If  they  have 
him,  the  police  may  get  his  mate.  He  looks  a  coward  and  sneak." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  you  have  a  choice.  I've  got  the  man.  Give 
me  the  jar  with  the  bomb,  and  I'll  take  the  whole  thing  on  my 
shoulders  with  the  police,  though  it's  a  shame  you  should  lose 


THE  HAND  UNDER  THE  CURTAINS     253 

the  credit.  I've  a  clean  bill ;  chauffeur  to  Mr.  R.  Waring,  Ameri- 
can newspaper  correspondent.  No  need  to  bring  you  into  it." 

"  If  you're  blown  up  by  the  bomb " 

"Would  get  blown  up  just  the  same  sticking  to  you,  for  I 
would  stick  like  a  burr,  sir.  (Now,  no  good  wriggling,  you  beast, 
or  gabbling  about  a  mistake.  There's  no  mistake,  and  you  won't 
get  away !)  Better  tell  him  what's  in  that  jar,  sir  —  my  Spanish 
doesn't  run  as  far  —  and  that'll  quiet  him." 

"You  can't  manage  the  man  and  the  jar." 

"  Could  manage  two  of  each.  There's  a  couple  of  civil  guards. 
Now,  if  you've  any  kindness  for  me,  sir,  let  go  that  jar;  and  don't 
be  seen  with  me." 

I  gave  Ropes  his  way.  But  I  lingered  near  enough  to  watch  the 
scene  which  followed;  and  had  that  innocent-looking  jar  been 
broken,  or  had  the  contents  of  the  soaked  bouquet  exploded  of 
its  own  accord,  I  should  have  been  near  enough  to  share  my 
chauffeur's  fate. 

He  explained  in  broken  Spanish,  eked  out  with  gesture;  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  English,  with  the  most  honest  of  English 
faces  to  vouch  for  his  sincerity,  helped  him.  The  man  in  his  grasp 
was  Catalan,  which  was  not  in  his  favour  at  Seville.  The  civil 
guards  looked  at  the  jar  with  respectful  interest,  but  did  not  offer 
to  take  it;  and,  after  a  moment  of  lively  conversation,  Ropes  and 
his  captive  marched  rapidly  away  with  the  men  in  red,  black,  and 
white. 

At  least,  whatever  happened  now,  the  King  was  safe;  and 
Monica  was  safe. 

It  was  not  until  eight  o'clock,  when  I  went  to  the  quiet  hotel 
where  we  had  appointed  to  meet  and  dine,  that  I  found  out  any- 
thing more.  Then  they  told  me  that  the  King  returned  to  his  box 
after  walking  in  the  procession,  and  that,  soon  after,  Dick  had 
been  surprised  by  a  visit  from  a  member  of  the  police  in  plain 
clothes.  The  man  had  come  to  the  O'Donnels*  box,  inquired  if 
the  American  gentleman  were  Mr.  Waring,  asked  if  he  had  a 


254  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

^ 

chauffeur  named  Peter  Ropes,  and  being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive had  told  the  story  of  the  bomb.  Dick  had  then  gone  with  the 
policeman  to  see  Ropes,  had  made  a  statement  concerning  him- 
self, his  business,  his  car,  his  chauffeur,  his  occupation  in  life, 
and  the  friends  with  whom  he  was  staying.  All  had  proved  satis- 
factory. Ropes  had  been  thanked  by  the  police  for  his  promptness 
and  presence  of  mind,  and  threatened  with  active  gratitude  from 
higher  quarters.  Both  had  been  asked  to  remain  within  reach  for 
a  few  days ;  and  the  episode  was  over. 

But  it  was  not  until  they  heard  my  part  of  the  story  that  Dick 
or  the  O'Donnels  knew  precisely  where  and  how  Ropes  had  come 
into  the  drama. 


XXXI 

BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING 

AY, "  remarked  Dick  in  a  stage  whisper,  "there'd  be  a 
big  drop  in  the  bee  industry  if  all  the  world  turned 
Protestant  and  bought  no  more  great  wax  candles. " 
We  were  standing  inside  the  Moorish  arch  of  the 
Puerta  del  Perdon,  in  the  Court  of  Oranges.  Beyond,  where  the 
stuffed  crocodile  swung  in  a  light  breeze,  was  the  entrance  to  the 
cathedral,  black  as  the  mouth  of  a  cave.  The  wind  which  rocked 
that  huge  reptile  —  the  gift  of  a  disappointed  Sultan  —  sent  the 
petals  of  ten  thousand  orange  blossoms  drifting  over  our  heads 
in  a  perfumed  snow-storm.  Past  us  trooped  a  dark-robed 
brotherhood,  each  man  with  his  tall  candle  raining  wax  on  the 
grass-grown  stones  of  the  old  court. 

This  it  was  which  had  drawn  forth  Dick's  reflection;  but  I 
scarcely  heard  his  words.  I  was  watching  for  Monica;  and  my 
last  chance  must  come  soon  if  it  were  to  come  at  all. 

Pilar  and  her  father  were  not  with  us.  They  had  gone  into  the 
cathedral,  where  they  had  secured  seats  not  far  from  the  royal 
chapel,  and  in  the  best  position  to  hear  the  Miserere.  Though  it 
was  early  still,  not  quite  nine  o'clock,  vast  crowds  were  gathering 
and  it  was  possible,  they  thought,  that  Carmona  and  his  guests 
were  already  in  their  places.  If  they  were  seen  there,  Colonel 
O'Donnel  would  send  out  a  messenger  (a  man  employed  in  the 
cathedral)  with  a  word  for  me. 

Earlier,  this  person  had  come  to  the  hotel,  where  he  had  been 
told  to  look  well  at  me  that  he  might  not  fail  to  recognize  me 
again.  And  Dick  and  I  had  not  stood  on  sentinel  duty  for  fifteen 

255 


256  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

minutes  when  he  appeared,  beating  through  the  opposing  tide 
of  the  multitude  as  it  swept  towards  the  cathedral. 

"  His  worship  the  Colonel  O'Donnel,  wished  their  worships  the 
two  seftoritos,  to  know  that  those  they  wished  to  find  were  not 
visible  in  the  cathedral." 

"  Could  they  be  there,  and  invisible  ?  "  I  asked. 

"The  cathedral  is  very  dimly  lighted;  and  they  might  not  be 
seen  if  they  were  in  some  chapel.  There  are  several  with  many 
people  in  them,  and  the  doors  are  locked. " 

"Is  that  allowed?" 

"  The  people  have  given  something  to  a  verger  not  to  let  others 
in.  I  have  power  of  the  same  kind,  if  any  senor  wished  me  to 
use  it. " 

"  Here  they  come ! "  whispered  Dick.  "  Carmona,  Lady  Vale- 
Avon,  and  Lady  Monica. " 

We  stepped  farther  back  into  shadow,  though  such  precaution 
was  hardly  needed.  It  was  so  dim  in  the  Court  of  Oranges 
that  the  crowd  groped  its  way  over  the  cracked,  uneven  pave- 
ment. Only  because  they  were  close  upon  us,  and  he  was  watch- 
ing, had  Dick  been  able  to  make  out  the  faces  we  knew. 

"Stop  with  us,"  I  said  to  Colonel  O'Donnel's  messenger. 
"  You  shall  have  a  hundred  pesetas  if  you  will  open  the  door  of 
an  empty  chapel  for  me,  and  lock  it  again  when  I  give  the  word. " 

"  But  I  fear  there  are  no  empty  ones  —  "  he  began. 

"  Then  make  one  empty.  Can  you  do  that  —  for  a  hundred 
pesetas  ?  " 

"  Yes,  senor,  I  think  I  can. " 

By  this  time  Monica,  still  in  her  black  mantilla,  had  flitted 
past  us  between  her  mother  and  the  Duke,  but  we  were  following. 
Dim  as  it  was  in  the  court,  the  moon  looked  out  from  behind 
the  Giralda  tower,  and  it  was  not  dark  enough  for  my  project. 
Inside  the  cathedral,  however  (save  where  blazed  the  Holy 
Week  monument,  an  illuminated  temple  of  white  and  gold), 
was  a  mysterious  darkness.  Not  the  hundreds  of  great  wax 
candles  sufficed  to  light  the  aisles  in  that  vast  forest  of  stone. 


BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING  257 

Stumbling,  groping  to  pass  through  a  hanging  veil  of  shadow, 
thousands  of  men  and  women  drifted  aimlessly  to  and  fro,  them- 
selves black  as  the  shadows  they  fought,  save  here  and  there  some 
soldier  whose  uniform  waked  a  brief  flame  of  red  and  gold,  or  a 
hooded  brother  who  glowed  purple  under  a  lighted  pillar. 

Purposely  we  pushed  against  the  people  before  us,  so  that  in  a 
space  black  as  a  lake  of  ink  the  trio  we  followed  was  separated. 
The  rush  of  people  from  behind  was  so  sudden  —  so  well 
managed  by  us,  —  that  it  took  the  Duke  unawares.  The  three 
were  caught  in  the  eddy,  divided,  and  before  they  could  come 
together  again  I  had  my  arm  through  Monica's,  and  was  drag- 
ging her  away,  the  messenger  clinging  to  me  closely. 

"  Don't  be  frightened, "  I  said.  "  It's  I  —  Ramon.  I  have  to 
speak  with  you. " 

She  looked  up  at  me,  her  pale  face  dim  as  a  spirit's  in  the  dark. 
"  Shame ! "  she  stammered  brokenly.  "  To  force  me  like  this  — 
you,  who  have  — 

"Done  nothing  except  love  you  too  well;  and  you  must  give 
me  the  chance  to  win  you  back.  You  owe  it  to  me, "  I  said  almost 
fiercely;  and  she  was  silenced. 

"  Monica !  where  are  you  ?  "  I  heard  Lady  Vale-Avon's  voice 
call,  and  could  have  thanked  her  for  giving  me  the  direction  to 
avoid. 

"  Take  us  to  that  empty  chapel  quickly, "  I  said  to  the  man. 
Then  he,  who  would  have  known  how  to  find  his  way  in  that 
stone  forest  blindfold,  steered  us  through  the  sea  of  people, 
and  into  a  haven  beyond  the  waves.  Not  a  chapel  was  lighted; 
but  as  my  eyes  grew  used  to  the  gloom  I  could  see  faces  on  the 
other  side  of  the  tall,  shut  gates  of  openwork  iron  which  we 
passed. 

"  I  have  the  key  of  this  one.  I  will  promise  the  people  a  better 
place  if  they'll  come  out,"  whispered  the  messenger,  stopping 
before  a  pair  of  these  closed  doors,  and  unlocking  it  with  a  great 
key. 

I  heard  him  speciously  informing  a  group  of  shadows  that 


258  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

they  would  be  too  far  from  the  music  to  hear  it  well.  He  had  a 
friend  who  would  open  another  chapel  nearer.  Eagerly  ten  or 
twenty  persons  snapped  at  the  bait,  flocked  out,  and  the  instant 
their  backs  were  turned,  I  half  dragged,  half  carried  Monica  in. 
Then  before  she  could  escape,  if  she  had  wished  to  try,  the  great 
iron  gates  were  shut  and  locked  upon  us. 

"They  will  be  looking  everywhere  for  you,"  I  said.  "Come 
with  me  to  the  back  where  it  is  so  dark  that  no  one  can  see  us. 
This  chapel  must  seem  to  be  empty. " 

"  I  want  to  be  found, "  the  girl  answered  cruelly.  "  I'm  going 
to  marry  the  Duke. " 

"  If  you  love  him  and  not  me,  I  shan't  lift  my  hand  to  keep 
you, "  I  said.  "  The  other  night  I  believed  it  was  so,  and  made 
up  my  mind  to  trouble  you  no  more.  But  Miss  O'Donnel  said  —  " 

"Miss  O'Donnel!"  exclaimed  Monica.  "I  wonder  you  can 
speak  of  her  to  me. " 

Her  voice  quivered  with  angry  scorn,  yet  my  heart  leaped 
with  joy  at  the  words  which  confirmed  Pilar's  suspicions  and 
my  hopes. 

"She's  as  loyally  your  friend  as  I  am  loyally  your  lover," 
I  assured  her.  "Now  listen.  There  are  things  which  you  must 
hear;  and  if  when  you've  heard  them  you  ask  me  to  take  you  to 
your  mother  and  Carmona,  I'll  obey  instantly. "  Then,  without 
giving  her  time  to  cut  me  short,  I  began  to  talk  of  the  letter  I  had 
written  at  Manzanares,  and  how  I  sent  it,  and  what  it  had  said. 
"  Did  you  get  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No  such  letter  as  that.  It  was  a  very  different  one  —  a 
horrible  letter.  Oh,  Ramon!  if  it  were  true;  if  you  had  been  true! 
If  you  could  have  gone  on  loving  me ! "  She  broke  into  sobbing, 
and  hid  her  face  between  her  hands. 

"Don't  dare  to  doubt  that  I  did,  and  always  will.  Tell  me 
what  the  letter  said?"  I  pulled  her  hands  down,  too  roughly 
perhaps,  and  held  them  fast  in  mine. 

She  tried  to  check  her  sobs.  "I  could  show  you  the  letter  if 
there  were  a  light.  Since  that  day  I've  carried  it  with  me,  so  that 


BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING  259 

I  could  look  at  it  sometimes,  and  have  strength  to  hate  you  if  my 
heart  failed." 

"  My  own  darling  —  mine  again, "  I  soothed  her.  "  It's  been 
a  horrible  plot.  If  that  letter  was  not  full  of  love  and  longing  for 
you,  it  was  forged;  no  doubt  after  the  handwriting  of  the  one 
I  really  sent." 

"  You  mean  my  mother  —  would  do  a  thing  like  that  ?  " 

"She  might  have  justified  it  by  telling  herself  that  the  end 
sanctified  the  means. " 

"  I  know  —  she  was  ready  to  do  almost  anything  to  turn  me 
from  you,"  Monica  admitted,  leaning  against  me  so  confidingly 
that  all  I  had  suffered  was  forgotten.  "  I  couldn't  have  believed 
this  of  her;  but  —  she  did  tell  me  the  night  before  Manzanares 
that  at  Toledo  she  heard  you  calling  Pilar  O'Donnel,  'darling.' 
'Young  Mr.  O'Donnel  seems  very  fond  of  his  sister,'  mother 
said,  looking  straight  at  me,  though  she  seemed  to  speak  in- 
nocently. '  I  heard  him  call  her  "  darling  girl. "  '  You  can  imagine 
how  I  felt !  But  I  hoped  she  was  mistaken,  or  that  she'd  invented 
it  to  make  me  unhappy;  so  I  wouldn't  let  myself  be  very  unhappy, 
only  a  little  distressed.  Because,  you  know,  Miss  O'Donnel  is 
awfully  pretty  and  perfectly  fascinating.  Mother  said,  the  night 
we  were  at  Manzanares,  that  she  was  one  of  those  girls  whom 
most  men  fall  irresistibly  in  love  with;  and  —  and  I  loved  you 
so  much,  I  couldn't  help  being  jealous. " 

"  As  if  any  man  could  even  see  poor  little  Pilar,  when  you  were 
near!"  I  exclaimed,  forgetting  Dick's  difference  of  opinion. 

"  Oh,  I  had  faith  in  you,  then.  But  next  morning  that  pretty 
Mariquita  handed  me  a  letter,  which  I  was  sure  was  from  you, 
as  she  hid  it  behind  a  tin  of  hot  water.  I  was  taking  it,  when 
mother  saw,  and  snatched  it  away.  You  can't  imagine  the 
things  I  said  to  her,  to  make  her  give  it  back.  I  was  so  furious, 
that  for  once  in  my  life  I  wasn't  in  the  least  afraid,  and  I  would 
have  tried  to  rush  past  her  and  run  out  to  you,  when  she'd  re- 
fused to  give  the  letter  up,  but  I  wasn't  dressed.  My  room  had 
no  door  of  its  own.  I  had  to  go  through  mother's  room  to  get 


260  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

out;  and  before  I  knew  what  she  was  doing,  she'd  slammed  the 
door  between  us,  locking  it  on  her  side.  I  hadn't  even  a  proper 
window,  only  a  little  barred,  square  thing,  high  up  in  the  wall. 
I  couldn't  scream  for  help,  even  if  I  hadn't  been  ashamed  to 
make  a  scene  in  a  strange  hotel;  so  what  was  I  to  do . 

"  She  kept  me  there,  wild  with  rage  against  her,  for  quite  an 
hour  after  I  was  dressed  and  ready  to  dart  out  when  I  had  the 
chance;  but  at  last  she  unlocked  the  door,  looking  very  grave. 
*  I've  opened  your  letter,'  she  said,  'and  read  it,  as  it  was  my 
duty  and  my  right  to  do.  It  is  different  from  what  I  expected, 
and  I've  decided  after  all  that  it's  as  well  you  should  have  it.' 

"Then  she  handed  me  a  torn  envelope,  and  I  recognized  it 
as  the  one  we  had  crumpled  up  between  us  when  she  snatched 
it  away.  Your  handwriting  was  on  it,  and  I  never  doubted  it 
was  yours  inside,  though  it  looked  as  if  you'd  written  in  a  hurry, 
with  a  bad  pen.  No  name  was  signed;  but  the  letter  said  you 
thought  it  best  to  tell  me,  without  waiting  longer,  that  you  feared 
we'd  both  been  hasty  and  made  a  mistake  in  our  feelings.  Our 
meeting  was  romantic,  and  we'd  been  carried  away  by  our  youth 
and  hot  blood.  Now  you'd  had  time  to  see  that  it  would  be  un- 
wise of  me  to  give  up  a  man  like  the  Duke  of  Carmona  for  one 
unworthy  enough  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  another  girl. 
Accordingly,  you  released  me  from  all  obligations,  and  took  it 
for  granted  that  you  were  also  free.  Then  you  bade  me  good-bye, 
wishing  me  a  happy  future  in  case  your  car  and  the  Duke's 
happened  to  go  on  by  different  ways.  Do  you  wonder  I  tried  to 
hate  you,  and  that  I  said  'yes'  the  very  next  night,  when  the  Duke 
asked  me  again  if  I  wouldn't  change  my  mind  and  marry  him  ?  " 

For  answer,  I  caught  her  against  my  breast,  and  we  clung  to 
each  other  as  if  we  could  never  part. 

"  Such  a  promise  is  no  promise, "  I  said  at  last.  "  I  have  you, 
and  I  don't  mean  to  let  you  go,  lest  I  lose  you  for  ever.  Monica, 
will  you  trust  yourself  to  me,  and  run  away  with  me  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes, "  she  whispered.  "  I  daren't  go  back  to  them.  But  what 
shall  we  do?" 


BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING  261 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  been  thinking, "  I  said.  "  My  car  isn't 
far  off.  Colonel  O'Donnel  and  Pilar,  who'd  do  anything  for  you 
and  me,  are  in  the  cathedral.  Just  outside  this  chapel  the  man 
who  locked  us  in  is  waiting  for  my  signal  to  open  the  door. 
With  the  O'Donnels  and  Dick  Waring  to  see  you  through,  will 
you  motor  with  me  to  Cadiz,  take  ship  for  Gibraltar,  and  marry 
rne  on  English  soil?" 

"  Suppose  there  should  be  no  ship  for  days  ?  "  she  hesitated. 

" There  is  one  nearly  every  day;  but  at  worst  I  can  hire  a  boat 
of  some  sort. " 

"  Once  we  were  in  Gibraltar,  you'd  be  out  of  reach  if  the  Duke 
tried  to  take  revenge, "  she  said.  "  Yes,  I  will  go!  I  love  you  and 
I  can't  give  you  up  again.  Oh,  Ramon,  I  never  would  have 
promised  to  marry  him,  if  I  hadn't  longed  to  show  you  that  — 
that  I  didn't  care,  and  that  there  was  someone  who  wanted  me 
very  much,  if  you  didn't.  " 

"  How  like  a  woman ! "  I  exclaimed,  laughing  —  for  I  could 
laugh  now. 

"He  has  only  kissed  my  hand,"  she  went  on,  "and  I  hated 
even  that. " 

"  Yet  you're  wearing  his  brooch, "  a  returning  flash  of  jealousy 
made  me  say;  " and  a  mantilla,  to  please  him. " 

"  The  brooch  is  his  mother's.  So  is  the  mantilla.  She  at  least 
has  been  kind ;  so  I  let  her  put  them  both  on  for  me  to-day,  when 
she  asked. " 

"Kind?  When  there's  time  I'll  tell  you  one  or  two  things. 
But  now  there's  no  time  for  anything  except  to  take  you  away. " 

"Listen!  The  Miserere  has  begun,"  she  said.  "Has  it  been 
long  ?  I  heard  it  only  now.  Can  we  get  out  before  it's  over  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  can  —  though  not  quite  as  easily,  perhaps, 
as  if  the  crowd  were  moving  with  us.  However,  we  can't  afford 
to  wait." 

"What  wonderful  music!"  Monica  whispered.  "I  wish  I 
dared  to  feel  it  were  blessing  us. " 

"  Yes,  feel  it  so,"  I  said,  and  involuntarily  was  silent  to  listen 


262  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

for  an  instant  to  the  melodious  flood  which  swept  from  aisle  to 
aisle  in  golden  billows.  Out  from  the  wave  of  organ  music  and 
men's  voices,  boyish  soprano  notes  sprayed  high,  flinging  their 
bright  crystals  up,  up,  until  they  fell,  shattered,  from  the  vaulted 
ceiling  of  stone. 

From  each  dimly  seen  column  shot  forth  one  of  those  slender- 
stemmed,  flaming  white  lilies  of  light,  such  as  had  bloomed  in 
Our  Lady's  garden,  as  the  pasos  moved  blossoming  through  the 
streets.  It  seemed  as  if  they  might  have  been  gathered  and  re- 
planted here,  to  lighten  the  darkness;  and  as  the  music  soared 
and  sank,  its  waves  set  the  lily-flames  flickering. 

I  peered  out,  and  saw  my  man  hovering  near.  In  the  gloom 
he  did  not  catch  the  signal  I  gave  him  with  my  hand,  but  when  I 
shook  a  handkerchief  between  the  gratings  he  came  quickly. 
As  he  unlocked  the  doors  I  slid  the  promised  bribe  into  his  palm ; 
and  having  glanced  about  to  make  sure  as  far  as  possible  that 
we  were  not  watched,  I  called  Monica. 

"  Take  us  out  by  the  nearest  way, "  I  said ;  and  the  man  began 
to  hurry  us  officiously  through  the  crowd. 

Monica  clung  to  me  tightly,  and  I  could  feel  the  tremblings 
that  ran  through  her  body.  My  heart  was  pounding  too ;  for  it  is 
when  the  ship  is  nearest  home,  after  a  stormy  voyage,  that  the 
captain  remembers  he  has  nerves.  It  seemed  too  marvellous  to 
be  true,  that  the  girl  was  mine  at  last,  and  yet  —  what  could 
separate  us,  now  that  I  held  her  close  against  my  side,  and  she 
was  ready  to  go  with  me,  out  of  her  world  into  mine  ? 

"  This  way,  this  way,  senorito, "  our  guide  warned  me,  pluck- 
ing at  my  arm  as  I  steered  ahead,  confused  by  a  thousand  moving 
shadows.  I  followed,  brushing  sharply  against  a  tall  man  in 
conical  capucha  and  trailing  robe  of  blue.  He  turned,  his  mask- 
ed face  close  to  mine,  so  close  that  even  in  the  dusk  I  caught 
a  flash  of  glittering  eyes.  Then,  giving  me  a  sudden  push,  he 
cried  out,  "Help  —  murder!  An  anarchist  —  a  free-thinker! 
To  the  rescue ! " 

It  was  Carmona's  voice,  and  I  knew  instantly  that  he  must 


BEHIND  AN  IRON  GRATING  263 

have  borrowed  this  dress  from  some  friend  in  the  cathedral  — 
perhaps  a  member  of  the  cofradia  to  which  he  himself  belonged 
—  so  that  he  could  search  forme  and  Monica,  without  being 
seen  by  us. 

Thrusting  the  girl  behind  me,  yet  keeping  her  close,  I  hurled 
him  away,  but  he  sprang  at  me  again,  and  this  time  something 
glittered  in  his  right  hand.  I  fought  with  him  for  it,  and  pulled 
a  slim  length  of  steel  up  through  his  closed  fingers,  so  that  the 
sharp  dagger-blade  must  have  cut  him  to  the  bone.  He  gave  a 
cry,  and  relaxed  his  grasp;  but  though  he  was  disabled  for  the 
instant  a  dozen  men  in  the  crowd,  which  swirled  round  us  now, 
caught  and  held  me  fast.  Monica  was  wrenched  from  me;  the 
dagger  had  fallen  to  the  ground  (but  not  before  I  had  seen  it 
was  of  Toledo  make) ;  the  figure  in  the  blue  capucha  was  swept 
out  of  my  sight,  and  I  was  fighting  like  a  madman  in  a  strait- 
jacket  for  freedom. 


XXXII 
ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ 

IT  was  a  mouse  who  gnawed  a  hole  in  the  net  that  en- 
tangled the  lion. 
Now,  I  am  no  lion  in  importance,  nor  was  Colonel  O'Don- 
nel's  messenger  of  as  little  significance  as  a  mouse;  yet  he 
was  the  last  creature  to  whom  I  would  have  looked  for  succour 
in  a  moment  of  stress.  Nevertheless  to  him  I  owed  my  rescue. 

"A  mistake,  a  mistake,"  he  chirped,  jumping  about,  bird-like, 
just  outside  the  circle  of  struggling  men.  "I  am  a  verger  here; 
this  gentleman  was  with  me.  He  did  nothing.  He  is  a  most  respec- 
table and  twice  wealthy  person,  a  tourist  whom  I  guide.  He  is 
innocent  —  no  anarchist,  no  free-thinker.  That  other  —  that 
pretended  brother  —  has  made  a  practical  joke.  See,  he  has  run 
away  to  escape  consequences.  There  is  nothing  against  this  noble 
sefior;  you  have  it  on  the  word  of  a  verger." 

Because  it  was  bewilderingly  dark,  and  they  might  have  got 
the  wrong  man ;  because,  too,  the  verger  was  probably  right,  and 
it  had  been  a  joke  played  upon  them  by  a  person  who  had  now 
disappeared,  the  twelve  or  fifteen  men  who  surrounded  me 
fell  back  shamefacedly,  glad  on  second  thoughts  to  melt  away 
before  they  could  be  identified  and  reproached  for  disturbing 
the  public  peace,  and  spoiling  the  music  to  which  their  King 
listened. 

I  was  free,  but  I  would  not  leave  the  cathedral  yet,  for  my  hope 
was  to  find  Monica  again.  I  wandered  in  every  direction,  while 
the  verger  went  off  to  bring  Dick  and  the  O'Donnels  to  meet  me 
in  the  Orange  Court. 

264 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  265 

Pilar's  delight  in  the  first  part  of  my  story  was  dashed  by  the 
sequel.  Of  course,  she  said,  it  must  come  right  in  the  end,  since 
Monica  and  I  understood  each  other  at  last.  But  just  for  the 
moment  everything  seemed  difficult.  The  Duke  was  sure  now 
that  I  was  Casa  Triana,  and  not  Cristobal  O'Donnel.  He  would 
almost  certainly  make  all  the  trouble  he  could,  and  a  man  of  his 
influence  could  make  a  good  deal.  As  his  attempt  to  stick  a  dagger 
into  me  —  by  way  of  a  quick  solution  —  had  been  covered  by 
the  capucha  of  a  cofradia,  I  could  not  take  revenge  by  laying  a 
counter  accusation.  I  might  say  I  had  recognized  his  voice,  and 
that  I  thought  I  had  recognized  the  dagger  bought  in  Toledo; 
but  I  could  prove  nothing,  and  the  Duke  would  score. 

Still,  as  the  Cherub  remarked  consolingly,  he  could  not  do 
much  worse  than  force  me  out  of  Spain.  Neither  I,  nor  anyone 
else,  had  ever  said  in  so  many  words  that  I  was  Cristobal  O'Don- 
nel. If  people  had  taken  my  identity  for  granted  because  of  a  few 
round-about  hints,  and  because  for  a  joke  I  had  borrowed  a 
friend's  uniform  for  a  day  or  two,  nothing  very  serious  could  be 
made  out  of  that  after  all;  and  as  Cristobal  really  was  on  leave, 
he  need  not  be  involved.  He  was  a  good  officer,  whose  services 
were  valued,  and  I  was  not  to  worry  lest  harm  should  come  upon 
him.  I  need  think  only  of  Monica  and  of  myself.  Had  I  formed 
any  idea  of  what  to  do  next  ? 

"  I  must  get  Monica  out  of  Carmona's  house,"  I  said. 

"  You'll  have  to  lie  in  wait  and  snatch  her  from  under  their 
noses  next  time  they  show  them,"  suggested  Dick; "  unless  — " 

"Unless?" 

"  Carmona  keeps  his  indoors  until  he's  arranged  to  have  yours 
politely  deported." 

"  I  can't  be  got  rid  of  in  an  hour." 

"You  could  to-morrow." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  can,"  sighed  the  Cherub,  "  and  that,  though  I 
shall  do  my  best,  I  may  be  powerless  to  help  you." 

"  What  if  it  were  known  that  he  saved  the  King  yesterday  ?  " 
Pilar  asked  her  father. 


266  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"The  King  is  going  away  to-morrow.  You  know,  he's  off  to 
England  in  a  few  days.  Besides,  the  incident  to-day  will  be  hush- 
ed up.  The  King  will  know,  of  course,  and  a  few  others;  but  it 
will  be  kept  out  of  the  papers, —  anyhow,  until  they've  got  their 
hands  on  both  the  men  concerned." 

"I've  still  got  to-night,"  I  said,  "and  it's  not  eleven  yet.  I 
hoped  that  in  the  confusion  Monica  had  given  her  mother  and 
Carmona  the  slip,  and  that  if  I  waited  here  I  might  find  her  again. 
I  thought  she  might  try  to  get  back  to  the  chapel  where  we  had 
our  talk,  trusting  that  I'd  look  for  her  there.  But  she  didn't  come, 
and  I  searched  everywhere  in  vain  before  I  tried  watching  the 
crowd  pass  through  the  Court  of  Oranges.  Now,  I'm  certain  that 
Carmona  or  Lady  Vale- A  von  must  have  pounced  upon  her  while 
I  was  surrounded,  and  forced  her  away.  No  doubt  they're  at 
home  long  ago.  Why  shouldn't  I  appeal  to  the  English  consul, 
and  say  that  the  Duke  of  Carmona's  detaining  an  English  girl 
in  his  house  against  her  will  ? ' 

"  No  use,"  said  the  Cherub.  "  She's  under  age,  and  she's  with 
her  mother,  who's  visiting  the  Duchess." 

"  Then  I'll  go  to  Carmona's  door  and  make  such  a  row  that 
they'll  be  obliged  to  let  me  in." 

"You'd  get  into  a  police  cell  instead.  A  man's  house  is  his 
castle,  especially  when  it's  a  palace  and  he's  a  Duke." 

I  was  silenced.  I  knew  the  Cherub  was  right;  but  it  seemed 
monstrous  that  in  this  twentieth  century  such  tyranny  should 
divide  a  girl  from  her  lover. 

When  I  had  thought  for  a  moment  I  said,  "  Anyhow,  I  shall 
go  to  the  house  and  try  to  bribe  a  servant.  Once  in,  I'd  not  come 
out  without  Monica.  I've  done  two  satisfactory  things  to-day  by 
bribery  and  corruption,  and  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  bring  it 
off  the  third  time." 

"  The  Duke's  servants  have  been  in  the  employ  of  the  family 
for  years,  and  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  before  them.  No 
money  would  bribe  them  to  deceive  their  master  and  mistress," 
said  the  Cherub. 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  267 

"I  shouldn't  have  thought  either  the  Duke  or  his  mother 
capable  of  inspiring  such  devotion." 

"  It  isn't  devotion  —  it's  fear.  To  an  unfaithful  servant  in  that 
house  —  well,  almost  anything  might  happen." 

"  Have  you  any  advice  to  give  me,  then  ?  "  I  asked,  in  despair. 

The  Cherub  shook  his  head.  "  The  prudent  thing  would  be  to 
go  away  to-night,  and  trust  Lady  Monica's  loyalty.  She  can't  be 
forced  into  marrying  the  Duke,  you  know;  and  if  she  breaks  the 
engagement  he'll  have  to  let  her  alone,  for  dignity's  sake." 

'*  That  might  be  prudent ;  but  of  course  I  won't  do  it." 

"Of  course  you  won't,"  returned  the  Cherub,  as  if  it  went 
without  saying. 

"  Very  well,  then ;  matters  are  desperate,  and  desperate  reme- 
dies must  be  tried ;  things  can't  be  worse  than  they  are.  I  shall  hang 
about  Carmona's  house  early  in  the  morning,  and  when  the  first 
person  comes  out  I'll  go  in.  If  I  don't  come  out,  you  will  know 
what's  become  of  me;  and  I  don't  suppose  in  these  days  even  a 
Duke  can  kill  a  man  without  getting  into  trouble  ?  " 

"  He  would  merely  have  you  arrested  as  a  housebreaker,"  said 
the  Cherub. 

"  Well,  I  should  have  seen  Monica  first,  and  perhaps  have  got 
her  on  the  right  side  of  the  door." 

"We'll  have  a  go  at  the  business  together,"  said  Dick.  "It 
would  be  more  sociable." 

"All  right,  thank  you,"  said  I.  "Then  something's  settled; 
and  these  best  of  friends  can  go  home  and  sleep." 

"  Sleep ! "  echoed  Pilar  scornfully.  "  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man,  and 
could  do  something  to  punish  the  Duke ! " 

"  I  wish  you  could  set  your  bull  at  him,"  said  Dick.  **  Only, 
now  I  think  of  it,  it's  his  bull  still." 

Try  as  we  might,  it  was  impossible  to  persuade  either  Colonel 
O'Donnel  or  Pilar  that  they  ought  to  return  quietly  to  bed,  if 
not  to  sleep.  No,  they  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Besides,  no 
properly  disposed  person  within  ten  miles  of  Seville  would  lie  in 
bed  that  night.  Processions  would  go  on  till  early  morning.  Many 


268  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

people  would  watch  them,  or  spend  the  hours  till  early  mass  in 
prayer  in  the  cathedral,  which  would  be  open  all  night.  Why 
should  not  the  O'Donnel  family  do  as  others  did  ? 

There  was  no  answer  to  this;  and  it  was 'finally  arranged  that, 
if  they  wished  to  rest  at  all,  it  should  be  at  the  hotel  in  the  Plaza 
de  San  Fernando,  where  we  had  dined.  That  was  to  be  the  ren- 
dezvous; and  the  Cherub  would  engage  the  verger  we  knew  to 
watch  the  Duke's  house  in  the  morning,  bringing  news  of  our 
fate  to  the  hotel  —  if  we  did  not  bring  it  ourselves. 

Never  —  if  I  live  beyond  the  allotted  threescore  years  and  ten 
—  shall  I  forget  that  strange  night  of  Holy  Thursday  in  Seville. 

Dick  and  I  wandered  through  the  streets,  and  in  the  Plaza  de 
la  Constitucion,  where  electric  lamps  and  moonlight  mingled 
bleakly,  while  never-ending  cofradias  passed. 

A  sky  of  violet  was  like  a  veil  of  silky  gauze,  and  as  the  moon 
slid  down  the  steeps  of  heaven  the  vast  dome  paled.  One  by  one 
the  stars  went  out  like  spent  matches;  dawn  was  on  its  way. 
Electric  lights  flared  and  died,  leaving  a  pearly  dusk  more  mys- 
terious than  any  twilight  which  falls  with  night. 

The  crowds  had  thinned;  but  silent  brotherhoods  moved 
through  streets  where  there  was  no  other  sound  than  the  rustling 
of  their  feet,  the  tap  of  their  leaders'  silver  batons.  So  faint  was 
the  dawn-dusk,  that  they  were  droves  of  shadows  on  their  way 
back  into  night,  their  candle-lights  lost  stars.  Now  and  then  the 
clink  of  a  baton  brought  to  some  half-shuttered  window  a  face, 
to  be  presently  joined  by  other  faces,  peering  down  at  the  dark 
processions  of  men  and  black-robed,  penitent  women. 

Outside  the  great  east  door  of  the  cathedral  halted  a  paso,  like 
a  huge  golden  car.  Christ  was  nailed  to  a  cross  not  yet  lifted 
into  place.  A  Roman  soldier,  of  exaggerated  height  and  sardonic 
features,  stood  reading  the  parchment  with  the  mocking  inscrip- 
tion about  to  be  nailed  above  the  thorn-crowned  head.  His  evil 
mouth  was  curled  in  a  satirical  smile.  Two  centurions  in  armour 
sat  then*  impatient  horses,  and  gave  directions  for  raising  the 
cross.  The  effect  was  startling;  for  in  this  pale  beginning  of  light, 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  269 

and  the  atmosphere  of  tingling  exaltation  which  steeped  the 
town,  it  was  difficult  not  to  believe  that  the  terrible  carved  figures 
of  wood  had  life,  and  that  with  the  eyes  of  one's  flesh  one  beheld 
the  world's  great  tragedy. 

Somehow  the  impression  of  horror  was  but  deepened  by  the 
fact  that  the  bearers  had  come  out  from  under  the  curtains  of  the 
paso,  to  take  off  the  large  pads  they  wore  on  their  heads,  to  drink 
water,  and  smoke  cigarettes  with  the  penitents  who  had  rolled 
up  the  masks  from  their  pale,  damp  faces.  They  might  have  been 
comrades  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  in  their  obliviousness  of  that 
tortured  form  on  the  cross. 

It  was  not  yet  five  o'clock  when  Dick  and  I  plunged  into  the 
cool  gloom  of  the  cathedral,  passing  the  spot  where  Carmona 
had  struck  at  me,  and  the  chapel  where  I  had  taken  Monica.  The 
stones  were  slippery  as  the  floor  of  a  ballroom,  with  wax  dropped 
from  innumerable  candles,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  smoke 
of  stale  incense. 

The  searchlight  of  dawn  could  scarcely  penetrate  the  black 
curtains  which  throughout  Holy  Week  had  draped  the  cathedral; 
therefore  a  solitary  beam,  like  a  bar  of  gold,  slanted  in  through 
one  superb  window. 

The  amethysts,  emeralds,  and  rubies  of  incomparable  painted 
glass  transformed  the  yellow  bar  into  a  rainbow  which  streamed 
down  the  length  of  the  majestic  aisle  and  struck  full  upon  a  gold- 
en altar.  Then  slowly  the  jewelled  band  moved  from  the  gold 
carvings,  the  flames  dying  as  it  passed.  Travelling,  still  like  a 
searchlight,  it  found  the  prostrate  forms  of  sleeping  men  exhaust- 
ed by  their  vigils,  snatched  out  of  veiling  darkness  kneeling 
women  clad  in  black,  and  at  last  rested  on  the  Holy  Week  monu- 
ment itself,  paled  its  myriad  candles,  and  made  pools  of  liquid 
gold  on  the  vestments  of  priests  who  had  knelt  all  night  in  adora- 
tion of  the  Host. 

"  Say,"  said  Dick,  half  whispering,  "  I  don't  gush  as  a  rule;  but 
doesn't  it  look  like  the  light  of  salvation  coming  to  save  lost  souls  ?  " 

Not  a  hotel  in  Seville  had  shut  its  doors  that  night  of  Holy 


270  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Thursday;  not  a  concierge  had  done  more  than  nod  and  wake  out 
of  a  broken  dream,  for  there  had  been  an  excited  Doming  and 
going  through  all  the  dark  hours. 

At  six  o'clock  Dick  and  I  were  at  the  fonda,  inquiring  for  Col- 
onel O'Donnel  and  his  daughter.  They  had  come  in  at  two,  and 
were  now  asleep,  it  seemed ;  but  had  left  a  note  for  the  senores. 
In  this  note  we  were  assured  that  the  friendly  verger  of  last  night's 
adventure  would  be  lurking  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Carmona's 
house  as  early  as  six  o'clock,  and  should  we  want  him  we  would 
know  where  he  was  to  be  found. 

We  took  bedrooms,  bathed,  dressed  again,  and  after  hot  coffee 
and  rolls  decided  that  is  was  time  to  go  on  guard.  To  be  sure,  it 
was  absurdly  early;  but  by  this  time  the  Duke's  household  might 
be  astir,  and  we  must  not  risk  letting  Monica  be  carried  away 
before  we  had  had  a  chance  to  practise  the  gentle  art  of  house- 
breaking. 

The  clocks  of  Seville  were  spasmodically  telling  the  hour  of 
seven  when  we  entered  the  narrow  and  dusky  lane  of  the  Calle 
de  las  Duenas.  So  fast  asleep  were  the  shuttered  windows  that 
our  mission  seemed  a  fool's  errand;  but  as  we  came  in  sight  of 
the  Duke's  closed  door  the  Cherub's  messenger  loomed  out  of 
the  shadows. 

Unshaven  and  haggard,  his  eyes  glittered  like  black  beads  in 
the  daylight;  and  he  greeted  us  excitedly.  "Senores,"  he  began, 
"  I  was  going  to  look  for  you  at  the  hotel.  A  thing  has  happened. 
The  Sefior  Colonel  told  me  I  must  watch  the  house  of  His  Grace 
the  Duke,  and  let  you  know  when  you  came  if  anyone  had  been 
out  or  in.  Who  would  think  of  people  starting  upon  a  journey 
before  the  day  is  awake  ?  But  so  it  is.  The  Duke,  whom  I  have 
seen  in  other  years,  has  gone  away  in  an  automobile  with  his 
honourable  mother  and  two  other  ladies." 

"  You  are  sure  it  was  he  ?  "  I  asked,  completely  taken  aback. 

"Sure,  my  senorito.  The  car  was  a  large  grey  car.  And" — 
his  face  grew  sly  as  a  squirrel's  — "I  can  tell  you  where  it  is 
going,  if  you  would  like  to  know." 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  271 

"I  want  to  know  all  you  can  tell,"  I  said. 

"Well,  the  grey  car  arrived  a  little  before  half -past  six,  I 
should  think.  In  it  there  was  only  the  young  man  who  drives, 
dressed  in  leather.  '  What  is  going  to  happen  ? '  I  asked  myself. 
It  seemed  better  to  wait  and  see  than  run  to  the  hotel  to  say, 
'there's  an  automobile  at  the  door  for  the  Duke,'  and  perhaps 
find  it  gone,  no  one  could  tell  where,  when  I  got  back.  But  I  do 
not  sleep  on  my  feet.  There  are  always  ideas  running  in  my  head. 
I  pretended  to  be  strolling  past,  and  stopping  for  a  look  at  such 
a  fine  machine.  Perhaps  I  had  matches  in  my  pocket,  perhaps 
not ;  in  any  case  I  asked  the  young  man  in  leather  to  give  me  a  light 
for  my  cigarette.  He  did,  and  it  was  a  natural  thing  to  fall 
into  talk. '  You  make  an  early  start,'  I  said.  He  nodded.  *  Going 
far  ? ' '  To  Cadiz  to-day,  by  Jerez.'  That  is  all,  honoured  senores ; 
but  I  tell  it  for  what  it  is  worth.  A  few  minutes  later  the  grand 
people  came  out,  and  the  automobile  shot  away." 

"  Did  they  put  on  luggage  ?  "  I  asked. 

*  All  the  automobile  would  hold." 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Dick.  "Carmona's  thrown  sand  in 
our  eyes  this  time.  Who'd  have  supposed  he'd  turn  tail  and  run 
away  like  a  coward  in  the  midst  of  the  Holy  Week  show,  with 
the  King  still  in  town  ?  " 

"  I  was  a  fool  not  to  expect  the  unexpected,"  I  said.  "  If  any- 
one except  Colonel  O'Donnel's  man  had  told  me  I  should  have 
been  between  two  minds  whether  to  accept  the  story  or  not.  But 
O'Donnel  called  him  a  trusty  fellow;  and  he  served  me  well  last 
night.  If  we  wait  to  verify  his  story,  by  the  time  we  find  out  it's 
true  the  grey  car  will  have  got  too  long  a  start.  I  don't  like  Car- 
mona's stealing  off.  It  looks  as  if  there  were  something  up." 

"  He  showed  last  night  that  he  was  desperate,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
guess  we'd  better  get  on  the  road  before  much  grass  grows." 

"You're  the  best  of  friends,"  said  I.  And  paying  the  verger 
well  for  his  services,  we  hurried  back  to  the  hotel  to  find  Ropes 
and  have  the  car  got  ready. 

It  was  still  very  early,  and  the  Cherub  and  Pilar  had  not  had 


272  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

many  hours  beauty  sleep;  but  we  could  not  leave  for  an  indefinite 
absence  without  bidding  them  good-bye;  and  we  were  on  our 
way  to  knock  at  Colonel  O'Donnel's  door  when  Filar  appeared 
from  the  room  adjoining. 

A  moment,  and  she  understood  everything.  "  You'll  follow !  '* 
she  exclaimed,  without  waiting  to  hear  my  plans. 

"And  I'll  go  with  him,"  said  Dick,  looking  wistfully  at  her; 
for  he  had  not  had  his  answer  yet,  and  who  could  tell  when  he 
would  have  it  now,  or  what  it  would  be  when  it  came  ? 

"Of  course.  I  knew  you  would,"  Pilar  replied.  And  a  light 
leaped  up  in  her  dark  eyes.  If  it  meant  nothing  warmer,  it  meant 
approval.  "  You'll  want  to  go  at  once.  Oh,  I  am  sorry  you'll  miss 
the  fair.  You  don't  know  what  a  fairyland  Seville  is,  with  miles  of 
streets  and  park  roofed  in  with  arches  of  coloured  lights,  like 
jewels ;  and  papa  has  a  tent  in  the  gayest  place,  where  we  stay  all 
day,  and  see  our  friends,  and  it's  such  fun  visiting  the  booths  and 
side-shows !  But  maybe  next  spring  you'll  come  back  for  the  feria 
with  your  bride,  Don  Ramon;  and  as  for  you,  Senor  Waring  — " 

"  As  for  me  ?  "  repeated  Dick,  anxiously.  "  Am  I  not  to  come 
back  before  that  ?  " 

"  You're  to  come  back  when  you  like,  and  —  papa  will  be 
glad  to  see  you,"  she  answered,  just  as  any  conventional  little 
senorita  might  have  answered.  But  at  least  she  had  the  kindness 
to  blush;  and  I  would  have  moved  away  to  give  Dick  a  last  chance 
if  at  that  moment  the  Cherub  had  not  come  out  of  his  room. 

Instantly  Pilar  dashed  into  explanations,  and  between  the 
three  of  us  he  soon  had  the  history  of  events. 

No  one  on  earth  looks  less  practical  than  the  dreamy-eyed, 
soft- voiced  Cherub;  yet  it  was  he  who  thought  of  practical  de- 
tails which  we  had  forgotten.  He  it  was  who  reminded  us  that  it 
would  not  be  prudent  to  take  Ropes  away  from  Seville.  As  the 
man  who  said  he  had  discovered  the  bomb,  his  evidence  would 
be  wanted,  and  if  he  disappeared  it  would  look  mysterious.  His 
real  connection  with  the  Marques  of  Casa  Triana  might  be  un- 
earthed by  the  police;  and  because  of  that  miserable  affair  at 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CADIZ  273 

Barcelona,  whose  consequences  were  continually  cropping  up, 
some  hideous  story  might  be  concocted  and  believed. 

Dick  and  I  unhesitatingly  decided  to  take  the  Cherub's  advice, 
and  leave  Ropes  behind.  He  was  engaged  in  getting  the  car  ready, 
and  would  no  doubt  be  disappointed  to  hear  that  he  was  to  be 
temporarily  abandoned ;  but  he  would  see  the  wisdom  of  such  a 
course,  and  might  be  trusted  to  guard  my  interests.  As  for  Dick,  he 
might  turn  his  back  on  the  proceedings  in  Seville  without  danger, 
for  he  posed  only  as  the  employer  of  a  man  who  had  found  the 
bomb ;  besides,  as  I  suggested  without  glancing  at  Pilar,  he  could 
come  back  in  a  few  days  in  case  he  were  wanted  to  give  evidence. 

Thus  it  was  settled;  at  eight  o'clock  we  had  said  good-bye  to 
Pilarcita  and  the  Cherub,  softening  the  farewell  with  a  hopeful 
"  au  revoir  ";  and  with  Ropes  staring  disconsolately  after  us,  we 
flashed  out  of  the  Plaza  de  San  Fernando. 

I  drove,  with  Dick  beside  me,  for  there  was  no  longer  need  for 
subterfuge.  Carmona  knew  me  for  what  I  was,  and  I  could  help 
Monica  more  by  defying  him  than  by  playing  the  old  waiting 
game,  of  which  I  was  tired. 

It  seemed  strange  to  be  racing  across  country  again  in  the  car, 
after  those  fevered  days  in  Seville.  With  the  steering-wheel  in 
my  hand,  the  steady  thrum  of  the  motor  seemed  to  say,  "  You'll 
do  it;  you'll  do  it;  —  I'll  help  you  to  do  it." 

The  air  was  made  of  perfume  —  orange  blossoms  and  acacias ; 
and  the  vast  flowery  plain  where  Seville  is  queen  gave  us  a  toler- 
able road,  on  which  the  car  ran  lightly.  Soaring  snow  peaks  of 
fantastic  shapes  walled  the  green  arena  of  rolling  meadows,  and 
the  day  was  like  a  day  of  June. 

Save  for  the  grey  Lecomte,  scarcely  a  motor  had  we  seen  since 
leaving  Biarritz,  except  in  Madrid;  but  now,  when  I  tried  to 
decipher  the  road  hieroglyphics,  the  dust  showed  more  than  one 
track  of  pneus.  Cars  had  come  to  Seville  from  Madrid  for  Semana 
Santa,  and  had  evidently  run  out  this  way  for  a  spin  more  than 
once.  As  I  had  not  Ropes'  detective  talent  I  was  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish the  Lecomte's  tyre-marks  from  others. 


274  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

In  sight  of  the  conspicuous  church  tower  at  Utrera  —  ancient 
home  of  outlaws  —  we  came  upon  a  dusty  white  line  diverging 
to  Ecija.  Pausing  to  question  a  road-mender,  I  remembered 
Colonel  O'Donnel's  story  of  the  Seven  Men  of  Ecija,  and  the 
curious  bond  between  them  and  the  Dukes  of  Carmona.  But 
what  brought  the  tale  to  my  mind  —  unless  it  was  the  name  of 
Ecija  on  the  road-map  and  signpost,  or  the  fact  that  we  were 
now  in  the  real  heart  of  brigand-land  —  I  could  not  have  toid. 

Yes,  said  the  road-mender,  he  had  seen  an  automobile  go  by  — 
a  big  one,  not  long  ago,  steering  as  if  for  Jerez.  Was  it  grey  ?  He 
would  not  be  sure,  but  at  all  events  the  thing  was  so  grey  with 
dust  that  had  there  been  another  colour  underneath,  no  one 
could  have  seen  it.  Ladies  in  the  car  ?  Well,  he  was  not  positive, 
for  it  had  gone  by  like  a  cannon-ball  in  a  cloud  of  smoke;  but 
there  were  several  persons  inside,  and  it  was  the  only  motor 
which  had  passed  him  to-day.  Several  cars  had  appeared  in  the 
distance  yesterday,  but  they  had  turned  back  on  the  Seville  side 
of  Utrera. 

One  automobile,  a  big  one,  apparently  grey,  and  with  several 
persons  inside,  had  gone  by  at  a  tremendous  pace  not  long  be- 
fore. That  sounded  as  if  the  car  we  chased  could  not  be  far  away. 
Our  eyes  searched  the  tell-tale  dust,  and  found  the  sleek,  straight 
trail  of  a  pneu  in  the  midst  of  wobbling  cart  tracks.  We  had  but 
to  follow  that  straight  trail,  then,  I  said,  to  come  up  with  Car- 
mona and  interfere  with  his  new  plans. 

Now  we  were  racing  through  a  wide  region  of  salt  marsh, 
where  within  enclosures  grazed  hundreds  of  fierce  black  bulls, 
sooner  or  later  to  die  in  the  arena.  The  country  became  desolate, 
and  curiously  sad.  We  met  no  more  peasants'  carts  or  laden 
donkeys  as  the  road  began  to  undulate  among  the  foothills  of 
distant  mountain  ranges. 

"  What  an  ideal  place  for  a  band  of  Colonel  O'Donnel's  ban- 
didos,  eh  ?  "  said  Dick;  then  drew  in  his  breath  with  a  sharpness 
that  cut  the  sentence  short,  as  we  whirled  round  a  hummock  at  a 
turning  of  the  road. 


XXXIII 

THE  SEVEN  MEN  OF  ECDA 

CLOSE  in  front  of  us  was  drawn  up  a  large  automobile, 
its  front  wheels  mounted  on  a  barrier  of  rough  stones 
built  across  the  highway.  Rolled  in  the  dust  lay  a 
leather-clad  chauffeur,  limp  in  unconsciousness  or 
death;  and  with  their  backs  to  the  car,  two  young  men  stood 
bravely  defending  themselves  against  seven. 

So  suddenly  did  we  burst  upon  the  scene,  and  so  furiously 
had  I  to  put  on  the  brake,  that  I  saw  only  a  wild  picture  of 
determined  faces  pale  above  flashing  blades,  fierce  faces  under 
red  peasant  caps,  and  carbines  used  as  clubs.  Then  Dick  and  I 
were  out  of  the  Gloria;  and  instead  of  two  there  were  four  against 
seven. 

Where  were  the  revolvers  we  had  bought  by  Don  Cipriano's 
advice  at  Madrid,  for  just  such  an  emergency  as  this  ?  —  In 
our  suit-cases  at  the  Cortijo  de  Santa  Rufina,  forgotten  from  the 
moment  of  purchase  until  this  moment  of  need.  But,  as  by  one 
accord,  each  seized  a  jagged  stone  which  had  rolled  from  the 
barricade,  and  before  we  had  had  time  for  two  consecutive 
thoughts  we  had  joined  the  strangers,  and  all  four  were  fighting 
like  demons. 

Oddly  enough,  the  seven  red  caps  did  not  fire  their  carbines, 
and  had  apparently  directed  all  their  efforts  to  disarming  or 
stunning  the  automobilists.  But  at  sight  of  us  their  tactics 
changed.  Surprised  at  first,  their  astonishment  was  burnt  up 
by  rage.  Four  of  the  seven  turned  upon  us,  and  drew  knives, 
but  quick  as  light  I  had  wrenched  one  of  them  out  of  a  brown 

275 


276  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

hand,  giving  its  owner  a  smashing  blow  between  the  eyes  with 
my  stone. 

Down  he  dropped  like  an  ox,  and  I  was  ready  for  another; 
but  the  blade  of  a  third  would  have  slid  between  my  ribs  had 
not  one  of  the  seven  cried  out  sharply,  " Stop!  A  red  car  —  a  red 
car.  These  are  the  men  we  want. " 

"Disable  them,"  yelled  another  voice;  but  it  was  easier 
said  than  done.  The  second's  pause  which  followed  the  warning 
shout  saved  my  skin.  The  brigand's  knife  flew;  and  he  got  a 
side  blow  on  the  temple  which  sent  him  spinning. 

We  were  now  four  against  five;  but  already  the  right  arm  of 
another  red  cap  spouted  crimson  from  the  blade  in  a  sword- 
stick  which  was  flashing  blue  lightning,  and  another  wore  a  dark 
spot  on  his  shirt  —  a  spot  which  spread  and  changed  its  shape. 

There  was  no  time  to  look  at  faces.  I  scarcely  saw  the  features 
of  friend  or  foe,  and  could  not  have  sworn  to  the  identity  of  one 
man  had  my  life  depended  on  it.  But  I  knew  that  two  beside 
whom  we  fought  were  brave  beyond  the  common,  that  they 
were  worth  fighting  for  and  with.  We  were  all  four  shoulder  to 
shoulder  now,  our  backs  against  the  car,  though  how  we  had 
won  through  to  that  position  I  could  not  have  told. 

Another  red  cap  had  gone  down  on  one  knee,  cursing,  and 
there  was  a  fresh  blot  of  crimson  on  a  dark-stained  shirt.  We 
four  had  the  advantage  now,  for  we  had  come  to  no  harm  but  a 
few  bruises  and  an  aching  head  or  two,  when  suddenly  there 
was  a  howl  from  the  fellow  last  down,  "  El  guardia  civile ! " 

It  was  true.  Out  of  the  distance  rode  two  men,  dashing  to- 
wards us  from  the  direction  of  Jerez.  Far  away  still,  their  white, 
black,  and  red  uniforms  caught  the  sun;  and  guessing  from  the 
knot  of  forms  swaying  round  a  motor-car  that  something  was 
wrong,  the  pair  spurred  their  horses  to  a  gallop. 

"  It's  too  hot  for  us ! "  panted  the  brigand  I  took  for  the  leader. 
He  growled  an  order;  and  supporting  two  of  their  fallen  com- 
rades who  were  able  to  help  themselves,  the  uninjured  pair 
made  off  towards  a  small  wood  where  I  now  saw  horses  tethered. 


THE  SEVEN  MEN  OF  ECIJA  277 

After  them  we  went;  but  they  promptly  left  their  half -disabled 
friends  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  loaded  their  carbines  —  so 
lately  clubs  —  with  quickness  almost  incredible. 

An  instant  later  two  black  muzzles  covered  us;  and  the  tide 
of  battle  might  after  all  have  turned  disastrously,  had  not  the 
shrill  ping  of  a  bullet  warned  the  enemy  that  there  was  no  time 
to  waste  upon  reprisals. 

One  of  the  civil  guard  had  fired  from  a  distance,  but  with 
precise  aim,  as  a  yell  of  pain  announced.  A  man  already  wounded 
got  another  souvenir  of  the  encounter;  and  out  of  the  seven  only 
four  could  get  to  their  saddles.  One  limped  in  the  rear,  but  he 
had  lost  his  carbine;  one  sat  where  his  comrades  had  flung  him 
in  their  flight,  and  the  last  of  the  seven  —  stunned  by  my  stone 
—  lay  breathing  stertorously  on  the  road. 

"  After  them  —  after  them ! "  one  of  the  young  men  who  had 
fought  so  brilliantly  shouted  now  to  the  civil  guards.  "  Don't 
let  them  get  away.  " 

For  the  first  time  I  looked  at  him  with  seeing  eyes.  Then,  I 
could  hardly  stifle  an  exclamation.  It  was  the  King. 

He  gave  me  back  look  for  look,  smiling  that  brave  and  charm- 
ing smile  which  has  magic  in  it  to  transform  an  enemy  into  a 
loyal  servant. 

I  had  my  cap  off  now,  and  so  had  Dick,  who  wore  the  jaunty 
air  I  had  seen  him  wear  in  more  than  one  battle. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  both, "  said  the  King.  "  And  —  not 
for  the  first  time.  Our  cars,  as  well  as  ourselves,  have  met  before. 
Wasn't  it  —  near  Biarritz?" 

I  felt  the  blood  stream  up  to  the  roots  of  my  hair.  "Your 
Majesty  has  a  King's  memory  for  faces, "  I  stammered. 

"There  are  faces  one  doesn't  forget,"  said  he.  "But  we'll 
talk  of  that  presently.  Now  we  have  work  here." 

The  King's  companion  was  already  down  on  one  knee  by  the 
side  of  the  chauffeur,  pouring  aguardiente  from  a  flask  into  the 
man's  half -open  mouth.  As  for  the  fellow  I  had  hit,  I  was  sure 
that  he  would  presently  come  round,  but  little  the  worse  for  wear; 


278  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

and  I  suggested  that  Dick  and  I  find  a  rope  in  the  car,  which 
would  bind  him  and  the  two  other  half -disabled  ones.  But  the 
King  would  not  let  us  work  alone.  He  did  as  much  as  we,  and 
more,  before  we  were  joined  by  the  young  officer  who  was  his 
friend. 

Discouraged  and  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  as  well  as  the  loss 
of  their  carbines  and  their  comrades,  the  wounded  brigands 
made  no  further  fight.  But  they  were  silent,  save  for  a  muttered 
oath  or  two,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  true  secret  of  this 
morning's  work  would  never  be  torn  from  them. 

For  there  was,  of  course,  a  secret.  The  King,  who  had  not  the 
clue  which  I  held,  saw  that,  and  wondered  why  the  brigands 
had  not  wished  at  first  to  shoot  us.  Plainly,  their  plan  had  been 
to  make  captives. 

The  obvious  idea  was  that  they  would  have  conveyed  their 
prisoners  to  some  brigands'  nest  in  the  mountains,  in  the  hope 
of  obtaining  a  rich  ransom.  But  they  had  evidently  expected  an 
automobile,  or  they  would  not  have  raised  a  barricade,  just 
round  a  sharp  corner  on  a  particularly  lonely  piece  of  road. 

Could  they  have  been  lying  in  wait  for  the  King  ?  This  seemed 
impossible,  as  he  had  told  no  one  that  he  was  going  out,  and  the 
expedition  had  indeed  been  made  on  the  impulse,  in  the  company 
of  but  one  companion  beside  the  chauffeur.  He  had  intended 
to  have  a  spin,  and  discover  the  state  of  the  roads  as  far  as 
practicable  on  the  way  to  Jerez  before  turning  back  for  the  pro- 
cession in  the  afternoon.  And  that  evening  he  must  return  to 
Madrid.  No,  it  was  not  the  King  for  whom  the  seven  men  had 
prepared. 

Who,  then,  was  to  have  been  their  prey  ? 

I  believed  that  I  could  have  answered  this  question,  but  I 
kept  silent;  and  there  was  no  reason  why  the  King  should  guess 
that  I  had  a  suspicion. 

"  At  all  events, "  he  said,  "  we  have  you  and  your  friend  to 
thank  that  the  affair  was  not  more  serious.  I  hope  we  should 
have  been  able  to  give  a  good  account  of  ourselves;  but  seven 


THE  SEVEN  MEN  OF  ECIJA  279 

against  two  are  long  odds.  And  there  seems  a  fate  in  it  that  you 
should  have  come  to  me  in  the  nick  of  time  to-day  as  well  as  at 
Biarritz.  I  should  like  to  know  your  names. " 

I  had  dreaded  this.  Foolishly,  perhaps,  I  felt  that  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  the  cordial  light  in  his  eyes  fade  to  proud  coldness, 
as  it  must  when  he  knew  me  for  a  son  of  the  man  who  had  tried 
to  place  another  on  his  throne.  Besides,  that  I  should  at  such  a 
moment  announce  myself  a  Casa  Triana  would  seem  like 
bidding  for  pardon  as  a  reward  for  what  I  had  done.  The  con- 
fession stuck  in  my  throat;  and  while  I  hesitated,  Dick  spoke. 

"  My  friend  didn't  mean  you  to  know,  sir, "  said  he,  gabbling 
so  fast  that  I  could  not  stop  him;  "but  this  isn't  the  second  time 
he's  happened  to  be  around  when  there  was  a  little  thing  to  be 
done  for  your  Majesty, —  it's  the  third.  Yesterday  it  was  he  who 
snatched  that  bomb  away  from  the  man  under  the  paso,  collared 
the  other  fellow,  and  stuck  the  bomb  in  a  smashed  water-jar, 
although  he  gave  the  credit  to  the  chauffeur  —  who,  by  the  way, 
is  'shover '  to  this  car.  My  friend  here  is  travelling,  as  you  might 
say,  incog,  for  important  private  reasons,  which  he'll  want  you 
to  know  some  day,  sir,  if  he  doesn't  now;  and  that's  why,  when 
Ropes  the  chauffeur  happened  along,  he  made  him  a  present  of 
all  the  praise. " 

The  King  flushed,  looking  me  straight  in  the  eyes  with  an 
expression  so  noble  and  at  the  same  time  so  kind  that,  had  we 
lived  a  century  or  two  ago,  when  men  were  not  ashamed  to  show 
their  true  feelings,  I  should  have  thrown  myself  at  his  feet. 

"I  thank  you  again,"  he  said,  "for  everything.  I'm  glad  to 
know  you  are  Spanish,  even  if  I  am  to  know  no  more.  But  am  I 
to  know  no  more  ?  " 

"Will  your  Majesty  pardon  me,"  I  asked,  "if  I  beg  to  re- 
main nameless  for  the  present?" 

"I  could  pardon  you  far  graver  crimes,"  the  King  said 
smiling;  "and  I'm  sure  your  reason,  whatever  it  is,  reflects 
nothing  but  honour  on  yourself.  I  owe  you  a  debt.  Claim  it's 
payment  in  my  gratitude  whenever  you  will;  the  sooner  the 


280  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

better.  And  if  you  want  a  friend,  you'll  know  where  to  find 
one." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  when  I  took  it,  shook  mine  warmly 
in  English  fashion.  Some  hing  else  he  was  about  to  say  on  a 
second  thought,  when  his  friend  —  who  had  now  restored  the 
chauffeur  to  dazed  consciousness  —  drew  his  attention.  "  Sir, " 
he  said,  "  the  guardia  civile  are  coming  back  without  prisoners. " 

A  minute  or  two  later  the  two  men  had  galloped  up  to  us,  one 
wounded  in  the  cheek.  They  had  chased  the  brigands,  exchanging 
shots,  until  suddenly,  having  passed  beyond  a  clump  of  trees  and 
a  few  lumpy  hummocks  of  sand,  the  band  had  vanished  as  if  by 
magic.  The  civil  guards  had  explored  the  spot  for  some  cleverly 
concealed  hiding-place,  which  they  knew  must  exist  within 
the  space  of  two  hundred  metres,  but  they  had  found  nothing. 
And  as  they  had  had  no  time  to  ascertain  the  condition  of  the 
men  left  for  us  to  deal  with,  they  had  thought  it  best  to  return 
lest  the  wounded  enemy  prove  not  to  be  hors  de  combat  after  all. 

Fortunately  the  distance  from  this  lonely  spot  to  Jerez  was 
not  more  than  thirty  kilometres,  and  within  three  miles  there  was 
a  farm.  Here  a  cart  could  be  got  to  take  the  wounded  brigands 
into  the  town ;  and  from  Jerez  a  posse  of  men  would  be  imme- 
diately sent  out  to  scour  the  country  for  the  escaped  brigands. 

The  King,  whom  the  guardia  civile  recognized  with  respect- 
ful surprise,  was  now  anxious  to  get  back  to  Seville,  where  he 
Was  due  in  the  royal  box  for  the  Good  Friday  procession,  and 
must  appear  by  five  o'clock  at  latest.  He  delayed  only  long 
enough  to  be  sure  that  his  chauffeur  was  not  hurt  beyond  a 
slight  concussion  of  the  brain,  to  speak  a  few  kind  words  to  the 
civil  guard,  and  to  say  a  significantly  emphasized  "  Au  revoir" 
to  Dick  and  me.  Then,  taking  the  wheel  himself,  whilst  the  half- 
dazed  chauffeur  lay  in  the  tonneau,  he  backed  the  big,  reddish- 
brown  car  off  the  barricade,  and  darted  away  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
at  a  good  forty  miles  an  hour. 

It  was  left  for  us  to  do  what  we  could  to  advance  the  civil 
guard  with  their  task;  and  though  we  had  already  lost  too  much 


THE  SEVEN  MEN  OF  ECIJA  281 

time  for  my  peace  of  mind,  it  was  our  plain  duty  to  help  those 
who  had  helped  us.  When  we  had  levelled  the  rough  barricade 
we  reluctantly  bundled  the  wounded  men  into  our  tonneau,  and 
going  at  a  pace  which  enabled  the  civil  guards  to  gallop  close 
behind  us,  we  steered  for  the  farm  of  which  they  had  spoken. 
There,  in  a  buzz  of  excitement,  the  brigands  were  piled  into  a  cart; 
and  leaving  them  to  follow,  presided  over  by  one  mounted  guard 
leading  his  comrade's  horse,  we  took  the  other  on  to  Jerez  in 
our  car,  so  that  the  search  party  might  be  organized  the  sooner. 

Sometimes  virtue  brings  its  own  reward,  and  mine  came  when 
I  learned  that  our  new  companion  had  met  an  automobile  going 
at  a  great  pace  towards  Jerez.  It  had  gone  so  fast  that,  in  the  dust, 
he  was  not  sure  of  the  colour  or  number  of  persons  inside,  but 
he  thought  that  he  had  seen  several  ladies. 

If  he  could  he  would  have  compelled  us  to  stop  in  Jerez  and 
give  evidence  of  the  attack  by  brigands;  but  laughingly  we  told 
him  that,  rather  than  be  delayed  again,  we  would  spill  him  out 
by  the  roadside  and  vanish  into  space  before  he  could  set  the 
telegraph  to  work.  As  for  the  brigands,  the  leader  with  three 
others  had  escaped,  and  the  faces  of  those  captured  were  not 
known  to  the  guard.  But  the  fact  that  they  had  been  seven  was 
significant  in  his  opinion ;  and  he  believed  that  they  would  prove 
to  be  men  of  Ecija,  forming  a  band  officially  supposed  to  be 
defunct. 

Should  we  give  a  hint  of  our  suspicions,  we  knew  well  that 
every  effort  would  be  made  to  detain  us  at  Jerez,  and  such  a 
catastrophe  I  would  have  avoided  at  almost  any  price,  unless 
there  had  been  a  hope  of  handicapping  Cannona.  But  that  there 
was  no  such  hope  I  was  as  sure  as  that  the  abortive  plan  had 
been  organized  by  him. 

How  he  had  communicated  so  quickly  with  his  friends  the 
Seven,  I  did  not  pretend  to  say,  unless  he  had  known  where  to 
find  their  leader,  and  visited  him  this  morning  in  his  car.  What- 
ever he  had  done,  however,  he  would  not  have  been  fool  enough 
to  jeopardize  his  reputation  for  the  sake  of  laying  me  by  the  heels. 


282  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  fact  that  he  had  claimed  the  aid  of  bandits  proved  that  he 
wished  to  dispose  of  me  without  implicating  himself,  though 
why  he  had  not  adopted  the  far  simpler  plan  of  denouncing  me 
as  Casa  Triana  to  the  police,  I  could  not  conceive.  Still,  there 
was  ingenuity  in  this  idea.  If  a  young  man  —  or  two  young  men 
— were  captured  in  a  IOD  ely  place  known  to  be  infected  with  brig- 
ands ;  if  such  young  men  were  held  for  ransom,  and  kept  out  of  the 
way  for  weeks  or  months,  what  was  all  that  to  a  Duke  of  Carmona  ? 

What  if,  when  one  of  those  young  men  appeared  in  the  world 
again  (minus  an  ear  or  a  finger,  perhaps),  he  told  a  fairy  story 
about  the  enmity  of  the  Duke,  and  reminded  the  public  of  an  old 
nurse's  tale  concerning  a  bond  between  the  house  of  Carmona 
and  the  leader  of  the  seven  famous  brigands  ?  Who  would  believe 
him  ?  Who  would  not  think  it  a  silly  and  spiteful  attempt  on  the 
part  of  an  embittered  man  to  injure  a  grandee  of  Spain  ? 

Carmona  would  not  have  taken  the  whole  Seven  into  his  con- 
fidence, that  was  certain.  He  would  have  appealed  to  the  leader 
alone.  That  leader  had  escaped;  and  even  if  he  were  captured 
he  would  not  betray  the  Duke.  Why  should  he,  since  it  would 
not  help  himself;  whereas,  if  he  were  loval,  Carmona  would  se- 
cretly use  influence  to  lighten  his  lot  ? 

Dick  and  I  discussed  these  matters  in  English,  under  the  nose 
of  the  civil  guard,  as  I  drove  on  to  Jer^z;  and  shrewd  Yankee 
as  he  was,  for  once  he  accepted  the  Spanish  point  of  view.  If  we 
were  to  "get  even  with  Carmona  and  pay  him  out  for  this," 
it  must  be  in  some  less  clumsy  way,  Dick  agreed. 


XXXIV 

THE  RACE 

IT  was  lucky  for  us  that  the  guard  had  met  an  automobile 
between  the  brigands'  barricade  and  Jerez,  otherwise  we 
should  have  been  at  sea.  The  road-mender  near  Utrera  had 
seen  but  one  car,  and  that  might  have  been  the  King's ;  but 
now  we  had  something  to  hope  for  still ;  and  Dick  and  I  resolved 
to  get  out  of  Jerez  as  soon  as  possible,  provided  we  could  learn 
that  the  car  we  followed  had  gone  on.  If  we  lingered,  the  civil 
guard  might,  after  all,  think  it  his  duty  to  have  us  detained,  and 
we  did  not  wish  to  give  him  time  to  change  his  mind. 

"It's  a  pity,  though,"  said  Dick,  with  a  thirsty  sigh.  "I've 
always  had  a  sneaking  fancy  that  if  I  ever  came  to  Spain  I'd 
stop  at  Jerez  — '  the  place  where  the  sherry  comes  from '  — 
and  potter  about  in  huge,  cool  bodegas,  sampling  golden  wine 
from  giant  casks  with  queer  names  on  them.  Only  think  what  it 
would  feel  like  to-day  to  have  a  stream  of  mellow  '  Methusalem ' 
trickling  over  our  dusty  lips  and  down  our  dry  throats  ?  Great 
Scott!  I  daren't  dwell  on  it,  since  it  can't  be.  But  it's  a  grand 
chance  missed." 

Almost  as  he  spoke  we  flashed  into  a  neat  white  town,  with 
green  glimpses  of  patios ;  and  groaning,  Dick  shut  his  eyes  upon 
a  great  bodega  where  the  famous  names  of  Gonzalez  and  Byass 
loomed  black  on  white. 

We  dumped  our  civil  guard  at  the  entrance  to  a  side  street 
which  was,  we  hinted,  rather  narrow  for  automobiles,  and,  not 
waiting  for  his  grateful  adieux,  we  darted  on,  asking  a  bootblack 
the  way  to  the  best  hotel.  At  the  "  Sign  of  the  Swan  "  we  paused 

283 


284  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

just  long  enough  to  give  the  Gloria  water,  and  to  find  out  that  a 
motor-car  had  stopped  for  a  few  moments  about  two  hours  ago. 
There  were  ladies  inside,  but  they  had  not  got  out.  A  gentleman, 
covered  with  dust,  had  ordered  sherry  and  biscuits,  which  he  and 
the  chauffeur  had  themselves  carried  to  the  other  passengers, 
appearing  rather  impatient  with  the  waiters.  This  gentleman  had 
spoken  Spanish  in  the  hotel,  but  had  been  heard  conversing  in 
English  with  his  friends.  They  had  remained  about  fifteen  min- 
utes, and  had  then  gone  on.  A  waiter  remembered  seeing  the 
chauffeur  and  his  master  consulting  a  road-map,  and  had  heard 
the  word  "  Cadiz  "  spoken. 

This  gave  us  an  apparently  unoroken  clue,  and  half  expecting 
to  be  caught  in  a  police-trap,  we  slipped  stealthily  out  of  Jerez, 
with  a  spurt  of  speed  as  streets  were  left  behind. 

Still  we  were  watched  by  purple-robed,  guardian  mountains, 
sitting  in  conclave.  A  running  fire  of  poppies  swept  the  fields 
between  which  we  travelled,  while  distant  meadows  were  paved 
with  gold,  or  with  forget-me-not  blue  like  squares  of  the  sky's 
mosaic  fallen  out.  The  air  grew  luminous  as  the  crystal  bell  which 
hangs  over  the  lagoons  of  Venice;  and  with  the  subtle  change  of 
atmosphere  we  had  in  our  nostrils  the  first  tang  of  the  sea. 

Here  and  there  a  strip  of  lush  green  was  belted  with  cactus, 
but  we  were  driving  through  salt  marshes,  and  round  us  spread 
a  plain  piled  with  strange,  shining  pyramids  of  salt,  white  and 
bright  as  hills  of  diamond  dust.  Then,  suddenly,  a  broken  line  of 
turrets  and  domes  and  spires  was  cut  in  gleaming  pearl  against 
the  sky;  and  it  was  not  the  opal  clearness  of  the  air  alone  which 
took  the  memory  to  Venice.  Here  was  the  same  ebb  and  flow  of 
salt  water  in  glittering  lagoons,  the  same  dark,  waving  lines  of 
seaweed,  the  same  wide  stretch  of  sapphire  beyond  the  alabaster 
domes. 

For  Spain,  the  road  was  good,  and  we  glided  smoothly  through 
the  pretty  old  town  of  Puerta  de  Santa  Maria,  with  its  big  bode- 
gas and  Byronic  associations.  Across  the  Guadalquivir,  where  it 
tumbles  into  the  Atlantic,  dashing  through  an  aromatic  forest  of 


THE  RACE  285 

umbrella  pines  we  came  out  at  Queen  Isabel's  white,  Moorish 
looking  Puerto  Real.  Thence,  distant  Cadiz  on  its  rock  appeared 
to  change  position  bewilderingly,  like  a  group  of  fairy  castles, 
as  we  swept  round  the  rim  of  that  semicircular  bay  where  once 
the  Phoenicians  traded  in  metals  of  England,  and  amber  of  the 
Baltic;  where  the  ships  of  the  Great  Armada  lay;  and  where 
Essex  wrought  destruction. 

At  San  Fernando  I  was  assailed  by  doubt.  What  if,  after  all, 
the  car  we  sought  had  not  gone  to  Cadiz,  but  had  here  taken  the 
coast  road  to  Algeciras  ?  The  great  conference  was  only  just  over, 
there;  tourists  of  all  nations  were  flocking  to  the  town,  attracted 
by  curiosity;  and  as  the  place  boasts  the  most  beautiful  hotel 
in  Spain,  it  seemed  likely  that  in  flying  from  Seville  the  Duke 
should  choose  Algeciras  instead  of  Cadiz.  But  some  fishermen,  on 
that  rope  of  sand  which  binds  Cadiz  to  the  mainland,  had  seen  a 
car  pass  a  few  hours  before.  Yes,  only  one;  and  they  thought  it 
was  grey.  It  had  four  or  five  passengers,  and  was  going  to  Cadiz. 

Thither  we  spurted,  Dick  studying  a  plan  of  the  city  as  we  flew 
along  the  straight  road  embanked  above  the  sand.  By  the  time 
we  arrived  in  silver  Cadiz  he  was  able  to  say  in  which  direction 
I  must  drive  to  find  the  chief  hotel ;  and  in  an  open  place  not  far 
from  the  crowded  port  we  stopped. 

Dick  stayed  to  guard  the  car  from  the  crowd  which  quickly 
collected,  while  I  went  to  question  the  landlord. 

No  travellers  with  an  automobile  were  stopping  with  him  at 
present;  but  one  had  arrived  a  couple  of  hours  ago,  perhaps,  and 
its  passengers  had  wished  to  remain  overnight.  Unfortunately, 
however,  as  a  big  ship  had  just  come  in  from  America  every 
room  was  taken. 

There  was  no  other  hotel  at  which  persons  of  taste  could  stop 
in  comfort;  and  after  some  discussion  the  owner  of  the  car  had 
decided  to  run  on  to  Algeciras  by  way  of  Tarifa.  The  party,  con- 
sisting of  three  ladies,  one  gentleman,  and  the  chauffeur,  had 
taken  a  hasty  meal,  and  had  got  away  about  an  hour  and  a  half 
before  our  arrival. 


286  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  Those  beastly  bandidos  I "  I  exclaimed  to  Dick  in  a  rage  of 
disappointment.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  them  we  should  have  been 
on  the  heels  of  the  grey  car,  and  caught  it  up  here  at  the  hotel. 
I  should  have  been  able  to  snatch  Monica  away  from  under  their 
noses  —  for  I  know  she  wouldn't  have  failed  me." 

"  Those  beastly  bandidos  introduced  you  to  the  King,  —  don't 
forget  that,"  said  Dick  consolingly.  "And  the  day  may  come 
before  long  when  you'll  be  glad  of  that  introduction.  You  can 
never  tell,  in  a  life  like  yours.  And  once  Carmona's  at  Algeciras, 
why,  you've  got  him  in  a  kind  of  cid-de-sac  from  which  he  can't 
escape,  any  more  than  a  mouse  can  jump  out  of  a  basin  half  full 
of  water.  If  he  takes  rooms  at  the  Reina  Cristina,  you'll  come 
plump  upon  him.  If  he  tries  to  return  by  road,  he'll  run  into  your 
arms;  and  one  or  the  other  must  happen  unless  he  puts  his  auto 
on  a  train  or  steamer,  neither  of  which  is  likely." 

Somewhat  comforted,  I  proposed  to  follow  at  once,  but  Dick 
wistfully  reminded  me  that  the  afternoon  was  wearing  on,  and 
he  was  wearing  with  it.  Soon  he  would  be  worn  out,  unless  I  gave 
him  something  to  eat.  It  seemed  years  since  that  cup  of  coffee 
and  roll  of  the  early  morning. 

If  we  needed  nourishment,  the  car  needed  water.  Both  needs 
were  supplied  somewhat  grudgingly  by  me,  though  the  physical 
part  of  me  did  appreciate  the  coolness  of  the  restaurant,  and  the 
strange  dishes  for  which  Cadiz  is  famous;  the  mushroom-flav- 
oured cuttle-fish,  the  golden  dorado  in  sherry. 

Then  off  we  started  again,  to  take  a  road  which  the  landlord 
warned  us  was  none  too  good.  People  who  travelled  by  carriage 
or  diligence  had  evil  things  to  say  of  the  fourteen  to  eighteen 
hours  of  journey,  though  the  scenery  was  fine.  This  did  not  sound 
enlivening;  but  what  good  horses  could  do  in  fourteen  hours,  the 
Gloria  could  do  in  three  or  four. 

Through  ramifications  of  narrow  streets  I  steered  the  car  out 
of  Cadiz.  In  all  directions  they  branched  off  from  one  another, 
interlacing,  overlapping  with  the  intricacy  of  a  puzzle.  The  houses 
were  high,  too,  and  there  was  not  a  window  with  glittering  bal- 


THE  RACE  287 

cony  of  glass  and  iron,  where  dark-eyed  women  did  not  lean  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth,  to  smile  down  upon  our  humming  motor. 
It  was  all  very  quaint  and  gay,  in  spite  of  ancient,  tragic  mem- 
ories; and  though  few  cities  of  Spain  are  older  than  Cadiz  — 
which  claims  Hercules  for  founder  —  the  white  houses  looked  as 
clean  as  if  they  had  been  built  yesterday  or  some  mediaeval  model. 

We  tore  back  to  San  Fernando;  and  soon  came  upon  the  bad 
surface  which  had  been  prophesied.  The  Gloria  bumped  over 
ruts  and  grooves,  and  scattered  stones,  and  perforce  I  had  to 
slacken  speed  lest  she  should  break  some  blood-vessel.  Never- 
theless we  did  not  waste  time  in  covering  the  six  miles  to  Chiclana 
de  la  Frontera;  and  when  we  had  crashed  through  this  an- 
cient stronghold  of  the  Phoenicians  we  jolted  out  into  an  open, 
sandy  solitude,  with  only  the  knoll  of  Barosa  to  break  its  blank 
monotony. 

Even  a  mind  preoccupied  must  spare  a  few  thoughts  for  Gra- 
ham and  the  "  Faugh-a-ballaghs,"  on  this  ground  where  Spanish 
men  and  British  men  fought  shoulder  to  shoulder  against  the 
French  invader.  But  when  we  passed  the  road  branching  away  to 
Conil,  and  held  straight  on  across  the  little  river  Salado,  I  heard 
a  thing  more  instructive  than  history,  more  exciting  than  romance. 

A  man  we  met  —  who  looked  almost  old  enough  to  remember 
the  brave  days  of  the  great  tunny  fishing  —  had  seen  a  large  auto- 
mobile, not  more  than  an  hour  ago.  Evidently,  then,  we  were 
gaining  on  the  quarry.  The  news  gave  me  courage. 

The  sea  and  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar  were  near  now,  and 
though  they  were  not  in  sight  yet,  nor  the  sa  dy  headland  of 
Trafalgar,  the  smell  of  salt  came  to  us  with  the  wind. 

At  the  old  Moorish  town  of  Vejer  de  la  Frontera  (scarcely  a 
town  in  this  storied  corner  of  the  world  but  tells,  with  its  "  de  la 
Frontera,"  of  days  when  the  Moors  were  crushed  back,  ever 
farther  and  farther)  we  had  travelled  full  thirty  miles  from  Cadiz. 
Childish  voices  screaming  round  the  car  cried  that  another  auto- 
mobile was  not  far  ahead ;  and  like  a  racehorse  nearing  the  finish, 
we  put  on  speed,  dashing  at  a  rush  to  the  Laguna  de  Janda, 


288  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

over  the  ground  where  Tank  the  Conquerer  began  his  great 
running  fight  with  Rodrigo.  So  through  little  Venta  de  Tabilla, 
leaving  the  lake  to  plunge  into  an  imposing  gorge  which  was  a 
doorway  to  the  sea.  There,  spread  out  before,  were  the  straits 
and  the  burning  African  coast;  Europe  and  Africa  face  to  face; 
white  Tarifa  jutting  into  the  green  waves ;  Trafalgar  in  the  dis- 
tance, smothered  in  clouds  like  clinging  memories;  Tangier 
opposite,  a  crescent  of  pearls,  tossed  seaward  by  towering  blue 
waves  which  were  the  Atlas  Mountains.  Taking  the  wild  beauty 
of  the  scene  with  all  that  it  meant,  it  was  one  of  the  great  sights 
of  the  world  —  the  world  once  supposed  to  end  here,  with  Her- 
cules' pillars. 

As  the  Gloria  sprang  on  towards  Tarifa,  a  fierce  wind  which 
had  been  lying  in  wait  leapt  at  the  car  and  sent  her  staggering. 
Gust  after  gust  darted  from  ambush,  half  blinding  our  ungoggled 
eyes  with  the  sand  they  flung  by  handfuls  into  our  faces.  But  we 
jammed  on  our  hats ;  and  the  Gloria  bore  the  onslaughts  bravely, 
her  voice  drowned  in  the  screaming  of  the  wind,  which  might 
have  been  the  war  cries  of  those  Moorish  armies  whose  battle- 
ground this  land  had  been  for  seven  centuries. 

As  the  good  white  road  mounted  the  shoulder  of  a  down  on 
its  way  to  Tarifa,  that  most  Moorish  of  all  Spanish  towns  stood 
up  like  a  model  cut  out  of  alabaster  in  a  frame  of  jade.  Clear 
against  the  sky  rose  the  crumbling  tower  of  Guzman  el  Bueno, 
the  Abraham  of  mediaeval  history;  but  our  way,  instead  of  lead- 
ing through  the  strange  old  city,  passed  the  horseshoe  gate  of 
entrance,  and  bore  us  up  into  the  mountains. 

Not  a  soul  did  we  meet,  once  we  turned  our  backs  upon  Tarifa. 
Only  the  wild  wind  would  not  desert  us,  but  roared  in  strange 
voices  along  the  hollows  of  the  land,  in  a  country  where  all  was 
wild.  The  rough  mountain  sides  were  peppered  with  stunted 
oaks;  and  as  our  way  ascended  more  thrilling  grew  the  views, 
with  the  smoke  of  great  steamers  streaming  black  pennons  over 
the  sea,  and  the  Atlas  Mountains  squatting  Sphinx-like  to  guard 
the  African  shore. 


THE  RACE  289 

Then,  we  lost  the  hard  blue  line  of  water,  screened  behind 
mountains;  and  slipping  down  over  the  summit  we  hid  from  the 
bellowing  wind.  The  car  flew  like  a  circling  bird  round  the  wide 
curves,  and  dropped  us  in  peaceful  vales  sheltered  by  cork  forests, 
and  rocky  walls  inlaid  with  the  silver  of  trickling  streams. 

Thus,  back  to  the  wide  sea  view  and  downs  whose  flowery 
carpet  was  torn  by  jagged  nail-heads  of  rock.  Cork  trees,  sombre 
as  giant  olives  clad  in  mourning,  strong  in  their  corselets  and 
shields  of  half-stripped  bark  as  knights  in  armour,  covered  the 
hills  like  a  vast  army.  At  the  foot  of  the  hoary  warriors,  waved 
bracken  and  yellow  iris  in  tangled  masses;  high  above  their 
heads  sailed  here  and  there  a  golden  eagle  of  a  vulture,  looking 
like  paper  birds  or  Japanese  kites. 

Far  below  us  the  white  houses  of  Algeciras  lay  scattered,  a 
broken  necklace  of  white  beads ;  and  from  across  the  water  that 
dark  lion,  Gibraltar,  crouched  as  if  waiting  to  spring. 

Whether  Dick  or  I  saw  it  first  I  can't  tell,  but  we  exclaimed 
together,  "There's  the  other  car!"  And  there  it  was,  a  moving 
speck  upon  the  road  in  a  white  cloud  of  dust. 

After  it  we  went  with  a  bound  of  increased  speed.  No  need  now 
to  stop  and  ask  the  way  to  the  hotel ;  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  follow 
and  catch  up  with  the  Lecomte  at  the  steps  of  the  Hotel  Reina 
Cristina.  A  wild  idea  flashed  into  my  head,  that  I  would  snatch 
Monica  as  she  alighted  from  Carmona's  car,  fling  her  to  Dick  in 
mine,  jump  in  after  her  myself,  and  be  off  before  the  others  had 
time  to  recover  from  their  surprise. 

The  more  I  thought  of  this  the  more  feasible  did  it  seem.  No 
slowing  up  for  sharp  turnings  now;  trust  to  luck  that  the  road  was 
clear  ahead!  I  was  thrilling  with  hope  and  excitement  as  we 
dashed  after  the  disappearing  dust-covered  automobile  into  a 
wide  open  gateway.  The  scent  of  heliotrope  and  rose  geranium, 
hot  under  the  April  sun,  intoxicated  me  as  we  swept  along  the 
white  avenue,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  other  car  just  drawing  up 
before  an  arcaded  loggia. 


TWO  ladies  and  their  maid  were  getting  out.  An  Ameri- 
can young  man   was   helping  them  down.  The  grey 
car  was   not   a  Lecomte.  The  owner,  his  chauffeur, 
and  the  three  women  were  of  types  entirely  different 
from  those  we  sought. 

The  discovery,  coming  after  such  exaltation  of  hope,  was  like 
a  blow  over  the  heart. 

"Hard  luck,"  exclaimed  Dick.  "But  Carmona's  car  must 
be  somewhere. " 

"  If  it  ever  started, "  I  said.  "  I  begin  to  think  now  that  Car- 
mona  rallied  his  brigands,  and  sent  me  out  to  meet  them,  know- 
ing I'd  surely  follow  if  I  believed  he  had  gone  that  way. " 

"  Oh  come,  there's  hope  still, "  Dick  consoled  me.  And  turning 
to  the  owner  of  the  car,  he  asked  if  he  had  seen  another  grey 
automobile.  He  had  not;  and,  on  further  questioning,  he  went 
on  to  tell  us  that  he  had  started  from  Seville  meaning  to  stop  at 
Cadiz  and  come  on  here  to-morrow;  but  the  hotel  had  been  full, 
so  he  had  "rushed  it"  to  Algeciras.  These  details  proved  that 
his  was  the  motor  we  had  been  chasing  from  the  first;  and  the 
excellent  Spanish  which  the  Califomian  spoke  to  the  porters 
accounted  for  one  misleading  bit  of  information. 

While  the  party  of  care-free  tourists  went  indoors,  Dick  and 
I  stood  in  our  coats  of  dust  to  discuss  the  situation.  We  soon 
agreed  that  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do.  Wire  Colonel  O'Don- 
nel  for  news  of  Carmona's  movements,  and  wait  where  we  were 
for  an  answer. 

290 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  291 

To  none  save  those  who  count  every  moment  precious  could 
such  a  delay  have  been  irksome.  The  place  was  a  paradise,  the 
garden  a  corner  of  Eden,  and  the  Reina  Cristina  more  like  the 
country  house  of  some  Spanish  millionaire  than  a  hotel. 

Leaving  the  Gloria,  we  went  in  to  write  a  telegram;  and  in  a 
court,  charming  as  the  patio  of  a  Moorish  palace,  we  sat  to  pian 
out  a  message.  The  people  of  the  hotel  confirmed  our  fears  that 
no  answer  could  come  from  Seville  till  morning ;  so  Dick  busied 
himself  in  choosing  rooms,  while,  to  save  time,  I  took  the  car 
by  the  sea  road  to  the  telegraph-office  in  town. 

How  many  miles  up  and  down  those  flower-bordered  paths 
Dick  and  I  walked  next  morning  waiting  for  news,  neither  could 
have  told.  Eleven  o'clock  had  struck  when  Colonel  O'Donnel's 
answer  was  brought  to  me  in  the  garden. 

"  On  receipt  of  wire,  interviewed  verger, "  I  read.  "  Made  him 
confess  to  accepting  large  sum  from  agent  of  C  —  to  send  you  on 
wrong  track.  Making  inquiries  and  hope  let  you  know  in  few 
hours  whether  C  — really  gone;  if  so,  which  direction.  Advise 
you  stop  Algeciras  till  hear  from  me  again.  Am  sending  on  lug- 
gage there. " 

"  A  few  hours ! "  I  was  beginning  to  know  too  well  what  a  few 
hours  could  mean  in  Spain  where,  to  a  population  of  philosophers 
it  mattered  nothing  if  a  thing  happened  to-morrow  or  the  day 
after. 

Gibraltar  was  empurpled  with  night  and  sequined  with  ten 
thousand  lights  when  the  next  telegram  arrived  —  a  message 
which  covered  two  telegraph  forms. 

"  Just  learned  C  —  left  to-day  for  Granada  with  same  party. 
Took  train,  and  whether  shipped  automobile  not  found  out.  C  — 
believed  to  be  ill.  Friend  at  club  says  C  —  been  heard  say  knows 
at  Granada  man  worth  twenty  physicians,  natural  bone-setter, 
herb  doctor.  Perhaps  wishes  consult  this  person.  Illness  seems 
mysterious.  House  of  C  —  well  known  at  Granada.  Inquire  at 
Washington  Irving,  where  suppose  you  will  stay.  Will  wire  or 
write  to  that  address. " 


292  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

I  should  have  been  off  within  the  hour,  but  the  quickest  way 
of  reaching  Granada  was  by  Ronda,  and  there  was  no  road  for 
automobiles.  One  could  walk,  one  could  ride,  along  a  bridle 
path  through  gorges  unsurpassed  for  grandeur;  but  it  was  an 
expedition  of  two  days,  whereas  if  we  could  curb  our  impatience 
until  early  morning,  we  would  reach  Ronda  by  train  in  about 
four  hours. 

Not  being  quite  mad,  we  waited,  rose  at  five,  and  before  seven 
were  steaming  out  of  Algeciras,  while  the  great  cloud-cataract 
of  the  Levanter  churned  and  boiled  over  Gibraltar.  On  a  truck, 
travelling  by  the  same  train,  was  my  brave  Gloria,  none  the  worse 
for  yesterday's  wild  flight,  and  ready  for  another  when  she  could 
take  the  road  beyond  Ronda.  I  had  not  ceased  yet  to  wonder  at 
the  expedition  with  which  she  had  been  shipped.  Dick  discovered, 
however,  that  the  manager  of  the  line  was  a  Scotsman,  a  kind  of 
fairy  godfather  for  all  the  region  round,  which  explained  the 
mystery;  and  his  road  was  wonderful.  In  a  glass  coach,  which 
was  an  "  observation  car, "  we  tore  through  scenery  so  diversified 
that  it  might  have  been  chosen  from  the  finest  bits  of  a  whole 
continent.  There  were  wooded  ravines  tapestried  with  pink 
sweetbrier;  there  were  far  hill-towns  like  flocks  of  gulls  resting 
on  the  edge  of  giddy  precipices;  there  were  strange  old  fortresses; 
ruined  Moorish  castles;  velvet-green  fields  with  aloe  hedges 
grey  as  lines  of  broken  slate;  dark,  noble  gorges  sprinkled  with 
mother-o'-pearl  flakes  of  white  wild  roses,  that  drifted  down 
the  red  rock  into  water  green  as  onyx.  There  were  blossomy  bits 
of  Holland  and  long  tracts  of  Switzerland.  Glacier-mills  in 
narrow  gorges  were  like  empty  niches  for  colossal  statues  of 
saints;  pink  and  white  orchards  foamed  at  the  feet  of  ancient 
look-out  towers;  black  rocks,  like  huge  watch-dogs,  seemed  to 
crouch  on  cushions  of  wild  flowers;  and  weeping  willows  fringed 
the  river  with  silver  before  it  dashed  away  to  do  battle  among 
the  mountains;  acacias  showered  perfume,  and  orange  groves 
pushed  so  near  to  the  train  that  a  hand  reached  out  could  have 
plucked  their  golden  globes. 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  293 

There  were  caves  and  underground  rivers,  haunted  by  en- 
chanted Moors ;  and  at  last,  a  brief  glimpse  of  Ronda  hanging  high 
against  the  sky,  vanishing  like  the  fabled  Garden  of  Iram,  and  not 
to  be  seen  again  until  the  train  mounted  the  cliff  by  many  loops. 

Just  as  we  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  journey  a  thought  in  my 
brain  seemed  to  snap  like  the  trigger  of  a  carbine.  In  my  haste  to 
get  off  by  the  first  morning  train  I  had  forgotten  to  try  and  find 
more  petrol  at  Algeciras,  although  I  had  not  enough  left  to  get 
the  car  to  Granada. 

There  was  just  time  to  telegraph  back  to  the  Reina  Cristina 
and  beg  some  of  the  young  Calif ornian,  who  had  fallen  so  deeply 
in  love  with  the  place  that  he  intended  to  stay  a  week.  We  had 
become  friendly  and  he  would  certainly  grant  the  favour,  there- 
fore we  might  count  on  travelling  that  night  by  acetylene  and 
moonlight.  Meanwhile,  there  was  a  long  day  to  wait,  but  I 
tramped  off  my  restlessness  as  best  I  could  in  exploring  every 
foot  of  Ronda. 

After  that  one  look  upward  from  the  train,  when  Ronda 
hung  before  our  eyes  over  a  thousand  foot  gorge,  we  had  at  last 
sneaked  in,  so  to  speak,  by  a  back  door.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
that  first  glimpse,  and  if  we  had  not  read  "  Miranda  of  the  Bal- 
cony" we  should  not  have  guessed,  in  walking  from  the  station 
to  the  Alameda,  that  Ronda  differed  from  other  Moorish  towns. 
But  far  away  was  a  barrier  of  iron  railing,  and  a  curious  effect 
as  if  beyond  it  everything  ended  except  the  sky.  We  walked 
on,  reached  that  railing,  and  leaned  over. 

No  picture,  no  book  had  been  able  to  give  us  a  real  idea  of 
Ronda.  It  was  stupendous  —  wonderful.  We  stared  down  at  the 
world  beneath  as  if  we  hung  in  a  balloon,  for  the  rock  fell  away 
from  our  feet,  a  sheer  precipice;  and  men  working  in  the  valley 
below  were  like  tiny  crabs.  The  Moorish  mills  were  white,  broken 
hour-glasses,  shaking  out  a  stream  of  silver;  geese  on  the  river 
were  floating  bread-crumbs ;  a  string  of  donkeys  crawling  up  the 
steep  Moorish  road  were  invisible  under  their  packs,  which 
looked  like  mushrooms  with  moving  stems. 


294  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  noise  of  the  river  floated  up  to  us  with  a  muffled  roar, 
and  across  the  deep  valley  its  water  had  cut,  tumbled  a  wild 
mountain-land,  crossed  here  and  there  by  white  threads  of  road 
which  clung  to  the  sky-line  and  disappeared. 

"Great  Scott,  if  this  eagle's  nest  doesn't  take  the  cake!" 
exclaimed  Dick,  always  modern.  "If  there  were  any  more  to 
take,  it  could  have  that,  too.  Hurrah  for  you,  rock  and  river. 
You're  sublime." 

But  we  had  not  seen  all,  by  hanging  over  that  iron  railing, 
nor  nearly  all.  There  was  the  palace  of  the  Moorish  King,  and 
the  terrible  steps  cut  by  Christian  captives.  There  was  the  bridge 
swung  over  the  gorge;  and  the  far-famed  "window"  of  rock, 
one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world.  There  was  the  old  Roman 
amphitheatre,  turned  into  a  bull-ring;  the  town  wall,  which 
Hercules  helped  to  build;  the  Roman  gate,  and  the  Moorish 
gate,  and  the  house  where  Miranda  lived;  and  a  hundred  other 
things  to  be  found  by  mounting  steep  hills  or  sliding  down  wild 
precipices. 

The  splendid  mountain  air  had  given  Dick  a  ferocious  appetite ; 
nevertheless  he  could  hardly  be  torn  from  the  cliff  above  the 
"  window, "  and  vowed  that  it  would  be  worth  while  coming  all 
the  way  from  New  York  to  Ronda  next  year  when  the  grand  new 
hotel  should  be  finished. 

Rain  fell  while  we  lunched,  but  we  wandered  out  again,  in  a 
thin  mist  like  a  sieve,  through  which  sifted  turquoises  and  silver 
spangles ;  nor  did  we  cease  wandering  until  it  was  time  for  the 
train  to  arrive  with  the  expected  petrol.  The  Californian  had  not 
failed  us;  and  with  a  good  supply  of  food  for  the  Gloria,  and 
enough  for  ourselves  to  last  until  morning,  we  set  off,  against  the 
advice  of  everyone. 

The  sky  had  cleared,  and  twilight  would  soon  merge  into 
moonlight ;  but  we  would  need  the  moon  and  stars  as  well  on  the 
road  we  had  to  travel.  In  more  than  one  place  it  was  marked  on 
my  map  by  an  ominous,  thin  black  line  which  meant  "  Motorists, 
beware. "  The  country  was  sparsely  populated ;  people  whispered 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  295 

of  bandidos;  and  if  anything  happened  to  the  car  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  there  would  be  no  means  of  getting  help. 

Still,  if  we  won  through  without  serious  mishap,  we  should 
save  a  day ;  for  there  was  no  train  to  Granada  until  morning,  and 
Dick  was  as  keen  on  the  adventure,  for  the  adventure's  sake,  as 
I  was  for  another  reason. 

After  all,  we  reminded  each  other,  it  was  a  journey  of  only  a 
hundred  and  twenty  miles.  With  no  traffic  to  interfere,  the 
Gloria  ought  to  fly  over  the  distance  in  four  hours ;  and  what  if 
everyone  did  try  to  discourage  us  ?  We  had  experienced  that  sort 
of  thing  in  Biarritz,  and  the  dangers  had  resolved  themselves 
into  chimeras.  Nothing  in  Spain  was  as  troublesome  nowadays 
as  the  busybodies  would  have  one  believe  —  not  even  the  beggars. 

My  big  searchlights  cast  a  flashing  ring  on  the  road,  which  the 
car  seemed  to  push  swiftly  before  it  as  it  ran. 

Dick  peered  through  the  uncertain  light  for  the  hill  town  of 
Teba,  from  which  the  Empress  Eugenie  took  her  title,  but  my 
eyes  were  glued  to  the  road. 

To  think,  if  we  had  known  at  Jerez  that  Granada  was  the 
lodestar,  we  could  have  reached  Ronda  in  a  run  of  four  hours 
day  before  yesterday !  But  it  was  useless  to  repine,  and  fate  had 
given  us  Ronda. 

By  the  time  we  had  passed  through  the  straggling  village  of 
Campillos  the  moon  was  up,  a  great  white,  incandescent  globe 
of  light,  so  brilliant  that  instead  of  draining  colour  from  rock, 
and  grass,  and  flower,  it  gave  new  and  almost  supernatural 
values  to  all. 

We  had  the  world  to  ourselves,  a  wonderful  world  like  a  vast 
silver  bowl  half  full  of  jewels.  Over  the  tops  of  mountains  cut 
jaggedly  of  steel,  strange  figures  seemed  to  run  along  the  horizon. 
Bathed  in  unearthly  radiance  lay  fields  of  poppies  like  deep 
lakes  of  blood  filling  the  valleys  between  little  rolling  hills,  and 
here  and  there  a  miniature  mountain  of  pink  or  glittering  grey, 
rose  out  of  the  plain  like  a  fairy  palace  which  would  be  invisible 
in  daylight.  Olive  trees  stretching  away  in  straight  lines  on 


296  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

either  side  of  endless  avenues,  fountained  silver  under  the  moon, 
each  avenue  swept  by  a  wave  of  poppies.  It  was  an  Aladdin's 
Cave  landscape  made  out  of  rare  metals  and  precious  stones 
that  imitated  trees  and  flowers. 

Antiquera  on  its  wild  crags,  was  a  ragged  black  hole  in  the 
silver  sky,  until  we  shot  into  the  town  under  the  dominating 
castle  of  crimson  memories. 

There,  was  life  and  music  still;  guitars  tinkled,  children  who 
should  have  been  in  bed  frolicked  in  the  streets  with  lambs  that 
followed  them  like  dogs,  while  everyone,  old  and  young,  laughed 
and  hooted  at  the  Gloria  as  she  shot  by  without  stopping,  on 
her  way  to  Loja  and  Granada. 

A  sharp  turn  to  the  left  swept  us  out  of  Antiquera,  and  so  good 
was  the  road  that  Dick  and  I  began  to  laugh  at  the  gloomy  prog- 
nostications which  thus  far  had  not  been  fulfilled. 

My  spirits  rose  to  such  a  height  that  as  we  passed  under  the 
Lovers'  Rock,  still  haunted  by  the  Moorish  maiden  and  her 
Christian  lover,  I  quoted  Southey,  verse  after  verse  of  the  old- 
fashioned  poetry  coming  back  to  my  mind.  The  Pefia  de  los 
Enamorados  stood  up  like  a  small  model  of  Gibraltar,  rising  out 
of  the  plain ;  and  as  we  wound  on  among  other  pinnacles  almost 
as  majestic,  we  could  see  the  bleached  skeleton  of  Archidona 
hanging  on  its  mountain.  Once  the  place  had  been  a  famous  nest 
of  brigands;  and  when  after  climbing  a  tremendous  hill,  we  had 
come  into  its  long  white  street,  Dick  was  of  opinion  that  Archi- 
dona of  to-day  was  still  an  ideal  summer  resort  for  the  fraternity 
in  case  they  should  crave  a  town  life.  Each  low-browed  house  in 
the  interminable  avenue  looked  a  fit  nursery  for  mysteries  and 
secrets.  Here  and  there  a  dark  face  framed  in  a  knotted  red 
handkerchief  peered  from  a  lighted  doorway,  staring  after  the 
Gloria  until  she  had  slipped  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  coast 
smoothly  down  another  as  steep. 

There,  had  we  but  known,  the  peaceful  olive  grove  through 
which  we  passed  and  hushed  the  song  of  nightingales  was  to  be 
our  last  glimpse  of  peace.  Beyond  that  silver  barrier  lay  chaos, 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  297 

a  chaos  of  wild  mountains,  deep  chasms,  and  grim  steppes, 
solitary,  unpeopled,  forbidding  under  the  moon ! 

If  we  broke  an  axle  here,  with  leagues  to  walk  to  the  nearest 
farm,  there  was  no  hope  of  Granada  to-morrow.  And  now  the 
road  was  equally  well  fitted  for  breaking  axles,  necks,  and  hearts. 

It  was  made  of  rock  in  petrified  waves,  among  which  the  Gloria 
floundered  and  buck-jumped  as  long  ago  Dick  had  expected  her 
to  do  when  she  crossed  the  Spanish  border.  Every  part  of  her 
shivered  as  though  she  were  a  horse  in  the  bull-ring,  and  I  pitied 
her  as  if  she  had  a  nerve  in  eveiy  spring  and  chain. 

"  This  is  no  road ;  it's  a  nightmare, "  groaned  Dick.  But  if  it 
were,  it  was  a  nightmare  which  ran  with  us  glaring,  showing 
frightful  fangs,  for  mile  after  mile  of  horror.  Just  as  the  steep 
slope  of  a  descent  offered  a  softer  cushion  for  the  suffering  tyres, 
and  hope  stirred  within  us,  we  broke  into  such  a  region  as 
imagination  pictures  in  the  streets  of  Lisbon  after  the  great 
earthquake.  Gullies  and  vertical  rifts  scored  the  highway  ser- 
pentining hither  and  thither,  the  chasms  gaping  to  swallow  the 
Gloria  or  at  least  bite  off  a  wheel. 

Now  the  earthy  Up  of  a  cleft  would  crumble  and  fall  in  as  our 
driving-wheels  skimmed  along  the  edge;  now,  steer  with  all  the 
nerve  and  nicety  I  might,  the  Gloria  would  rock  as  she  hung  half 
over  a  gully.  Somehow  I  coaxed  her  down  the  hill,  and  driving 
out  from  the  labyrinth  of  crevasses,  I  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 
But  the  next  instant,  I  had  only  time  to  jam  on  the  brakes  to 
save  the  car  from  vaulting  into  a  small  river  which  ran  across 
the  road.  Carefully  embanked  on  either  side,  the  stream  flowed 
swiftly,  cutting  the  descent  at  right  angles. 

Whatever  the  depth  might  prove,  I  had  to  risk  it.  Mounting 
the  nearer  embankment,  I  drove  down  into  the  running  water, 
where  the  moon  laughed  up  at  me  as  I  broke  her  glittering 
reflection. 

"  Good  old  San  Cristobal ! "  cried  Dick  as  we  came  through 
without  damage  and  climbed  the  opposite  bank,  to  plump  down 
a  breakneck  descent  on  the  other  side. 


298  THE.CAR  OF  DESTINY 

But  it  was  early  still  to  praise  the  saint.  We  had  only  to  look 
ahead  to  see  how  much  more  he  had  to  do  for  us,  if  we  were  to 
win  through  to  Granada  at  all.  Where  a  little  clump  of  houses 
had  assembled  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  as  if  to  watch  our 
struggle,  another  and  far  broader  river  flowed. 

It  also  raced  across  the  highway,  as  if  roads  were  made  for 
river-beds;  and  this  time  the  situation  was  so  serious  that  I 
stopped  the  Gloria  to  reflect. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it;  this  river  was  deep.  Though  a 
cart  might  ford  it  safely,  and  have  the  flood  of  rippling  silver  no 
higher  than  the  axles,  it  was  different  with  an  automobile.  I 
wondered  bleakly  what  would  happen  to  the  silencer  if  its  mass 
of  heated  metal  were  suddenly  plunged  into  cold  water,  and 
what  would  happen  to  the  commutator. 

"  When  in  doubt,  play  a  trump, "  said  Dick.  "And  I  guess  that 
camel-backed  bridge  is  a  trump,  if  it's  only  a  knave  —  or  the 
deuce. " 

It  was  true,  there  was  a  narrow  erection  which  might  pass  as 
a  bridge,  if  one  wished  to  pay  a  compliment.  It  was  of  stone, 
and  came  to  a  steep  point  at  the  apex,  like  a  "  card  tent "  when 
two  cards  receive  support  from  one  another.  It  was  the  question 
of  a  fraction  of  an  inch,  if  the  Gloria  were  to  squeeze  over;  but 
between  the  danger  of  a  jam  and  the  danger  of  a  burst  cylinder, 
I  decided  to  risk  playing  Dick's  trump. 

First  I  got  out  and  unscrewed  the  wheel-caps  to  give  more 
clearance,  then  in  again  for  the  trial,  while  Dick  walked,  ready 
to  offer  aid  if  it  were  needed.  I  had  rasped  through  to  the  top, 
and  the  Gloria  had  actually  started  on  the  down  grade,  when 
she  gave  a  grinding  scream,  and  stuck  between  the  parapets. 

I  tried  to  move,  and  could  not.  The  car  was  hopelessly  jammed. 

"Nice  fix,"  said  Dick.  "If  I  was  writing  a  book,  I'd  say, 
*  this  route  only  suitable  for  hundred  horse-power  cars,  built  in 
small  sections,  and  carrying  cheerful  passengers.'  Now,  we  were 
cheerful  once  —  and  may  be  again.  Chuck  me  over  the  key  of 
the  tool-box,  will  you?" 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  299 

I  did  so  without  a  word,  lest  if  I  uttered  any  they  should  be 
too  strong.  But  curiosity  overcame  me  when  I  heard  a  metallic 
chinking,  then  the  blows  of  a  hammer. 

"  Only  knocking  down  a  bit  of  this  old  parapet, "  was  the  calm 
answer  to  my  question.  "Some  of  it's  gone  already;  why  not 
more  ?  I  bet  future  generations  will  thank  me  —  as  it's  certain 
never  to  be  mended. " 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a  great  splash,  when  a  piece  of  the 
parapet,  already  weakened  by  years  of  storm  and  stress,  plumped 
over  into  the  river.  The  car  was  released,  and  slid  down  the  other 
slope  of  the  camel's  back. 

Now  it  did  seem  that  we  might  safely  thank  San  Cristobal, 
since  nothing  could  well  be  worse  than  the  pass  from  which  he 
had  just  delivered  us,  scratched,  bruised,  yet  unbroken.  We  had 
but  to  scramble  out  of  the  rough  river-bed,  bump  over  the  level 
crossing  of  a  railway,  to  come  out  upon  a  broad,  smooth  highway 
like  a  road  to  paradise.  Ready  to  shout  with  joy,  I  put  on  speed, 
and  the  Gloria  sprinted  over  the  white  and  silent  way  as  if  she 
were  happy  to  turn  her  back  upon  Inferno. 

Yesterday's  study  of  the  map  assured  me  that  at  length  we  had 
struck  the  main  road  from  Malaga,  and  there  seemed  every 
reason  to  believe  that  the  ordeal  just  over  would  be  our  last. 
Flying  along  at  a  good  fifty  miles  an  hour,  under  a  tired  moon 
that  sought  the  west,  presently  a  town  rose  grandly  up  before  us, 
throned  on  rocks  in  a  wide  valley,  and  pallid  in  the  strange  light 
as  some  sad  queen. 

Loja,  tragically  lost  key  of  Granada,  sister  of  famed  Alhama, 
stronghold  of  that  fierce  alcayde  who  called  Boabdil's  sultana 
daughter!  Loja,  and  only  thirty  miles  more  to  Granada. 

We  rushed  towards  that  wide  valley,  and  on  to  the  mountain 
town  which  dared  to  repulse  Ferdinand.  In  the  deserted  streets 
the  only  sound  was  the  singing  of  many  springs,  the  same  musical 
voices,  the  same  strains  that  Lord  Rivers  heard  close  upon  five 
hundred  years  ago,  when  he  came  with  his  English  archers  to 
help  conquer  the  wild  place.  El  Gran  Capitan,  too,  had  come 


300  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

here,  a  lonely  exile,  after  all  his  splendid  services  to  an  ungrateful 
king.  He,  too,  had  heard  the  singing  of  Loja's  springs,  not  in 
triumph,  but  in  sorrow. 

Down  in  the  valley  beyond,  the  river  cried  a  warning  to  us; 
but  we  did  not  heed,  even  when  the  road  surface  changed  again 
to  gluey  mud;  squelching  on,  mile  after  mile,  at  the  best  pace  we 
could,  and  saying  always  that  soon  we  should  be  on  the  Vega. 
So  the  dawn  stole  up  and  quivered  on  the  snows  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada. 

The  moon  was  gone,  and  it  must  still  be  long  before  the  sun 
would  shine  over  the  mountains,  when  a  black  shadow  like  a 
great  coffin  deserted  on  the  road,  gave  me  pause.  I  pulled  up  in 
haste,  only  just  in  time,  and  could  hardly  believe  I  saw  aright. 
But  there  was  no  illusion.  We  were  on  the  highway  from  the 
port  of  Malaga  to  Granada,  yet  here  was  a  broken  bridge,  a 
noble  structure  which  should  have  outworn  centuries,  tumbling 
into  rum. 

The  fall  of  the  great  central  arch  was  no  new  thing,  for  moss 
and  lichen  enamelled  its  jagged  edges  with  green  and  gold. 
Some  branches  loosely  strewn  across  the  road  were  the  only  sign- 
posts indicating  this  tragedy,  though  perhaps  it  was  a  story  as 
old  as  the  great  earthquake  of  two-and-twenty  years  ago. 

A  yard  or  so  more  and  we  should  have  been  over;  but  San 
Cristobal  had  not  forgotten  us;  and  the  next  thing  was,  how  to 
cross  the  river  without  a  bridge.  I  turned  and  went  back,  dis- 
covering wheel-tracks  which  showed  an  obscure  bye-path  dipping 
over  the  edge  of  the  enbankment.  I  followed,  and  beheld  the 
ford,  a  little  farther  on  in  a  baby  forest,  where  a  broad  stream 
lay  in  flood  between  low  banks. 

"We'll  have  to  get  through,"  I  said,  and  drove  the  Gloria 
into  the  water.  If  there  should  be  mud  —  but  there  were  stones 
instead;  and  with  tiny  waves  swishing  among  the  spokes  of  her 
wheels  she  set  out  to  rumble  over. 

"I  believe  she'll  do  it — "  I  had  begun,  when  she  gave  a 
great  hiss,  as  when  a  blacksmith  plunges  a  red-hot  horseshoe 


THE  MOON  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  301 

into  water;  and  a  cloud  of  steam  gushed  up.  Still  I  forced  her  on, 
expecting  each  instant  to  hear  some  fatal  crash,  while  we  plunged 
deeper  into  the  stream.  Now  the  little  waves  splashed  coldly  across 
my  feet.  Would  they  mount  to  the  carburetor,  spoil  the  ignition, 
or,  still  worse,  would  they  crack  the  cylinders  ? 

Neither  of  us  spoke,  and  the  car  stormed  on,  sobbing.  For  a 
moment  she  clawed  in  vain  at  something,  and  then  stumbled,  as 
if  on  her  knees,  up  the  farther  bank.  Dripping  water  and  puffing 
steam  she  climbed  to  the  high-road  again,  and,  with  a  bound, 
started  on  through  spouting  mud,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
One  would  have  thought  her  fired  by  some  incentive  as  powerful 
as  mine,  which  forced  her  on  in  the  face  of  all  difficulties;  and 
perhaps  it  was  a  song  of  gladness  which  the  motor  hummed,  as 
she  came  out  upon  the  Vega. 

Suddenly  the  first  beams  of  the  sun  streamed  down  the  white 
slopes  of  the  far  Sierra  Nevada,  touched  the  vast  fertile  plain, 
and  wrought  magic  with  a  castled  hill  which  floated  up,  dream- 
like, from  a  purple  haze  where  a  great  city  lay  asleep.  Clustering 
vermilion  towers  blazed  with  the  gold  of  dawn,  and  dazzled  our 
eyes  with  the  glamour  of  romance.  For  the  sleeping  city  was 
Granada,  and  the  red  towers  and  gardens  on  the  castled  hill 
were  the  towers  and  gardens  of  the  Alhambra. 

The  adventure  was  over.  And  under  one  of  those  roofs,  dove- 
grey  in  the  dawn,  I  hoped  that  Monica  was  sleeping. 


XXXVI 

WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS 

IN  spite  of  dykes  and  dams,  said  Dick,  we  had  arrived  at  a 
place  to  visit  which  had  once  seemed  to  him  as  wonderful 
as  finding  the  key  of  the  rainbow.  Yet  here  we  were ;  and 
Granada  —  after  we  had  entered  at  last  by  crossing  still 
another  river  —  came  out  from  under  its  spell  of  enchant- 
ment when  we  saw  it  at  close  quarters.  Only  that  wonderful  hill 
above  was  magical  still,  as  magical  to  the  eye  as  when  Ibraham 
the  astrologer  decreed  its  gardens. 

More  than  half  the  miradored  Moorish  houses  had  given  place 
to  modern  French  ones ;  and  descendants  of  the  banished  owners 
in  far  Tetuan  and  Tunis,  might  as  well  fling  their  keys  and  title- 
deeds  away. 

The  dome  of  Isabella's  cathedral  and  the  towers  of  old,  old 
churches  rose  from  among  the  roofs  of  commonplace  streets; 
ordinary  shops  of  yesterday  and  to-day  ran  up  the  steep  hill 
towards  the  Alhambra ;  but  at  a  great  gateway  —  la  Puetra  de 
las  Granadas,  raised  by  Charles  the  Fifth  —  the  centuries  opened 
and  let  us  drive  through  into  the  past. 

At  this  hour  of  the  morning,  the  deep  green  forest  of  the 
Alhambra  park,  beyond  the  classic  arch,  was  still  as  the  enchant- 
ed wood  which  hid  from  the  world  the  Sleeping  Beauty  in  her 
palace.  The  nightingales  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  the  daylight 
birds  had  finished  their  first  concert,  but  another  voice  was  sing- 
ing, the  joyous  high  soprano  of  water  —  water  unseen,  rippling 
through  subterranean  channels;  water  seen,  tumbling  in  crystal 
runnels  on  either  side  of  the  road  in  its  bubbling  way  downhill. 

302 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  303 

Still  we  saw  nothing  of  the  enchanted  vermilion  towers  which 
draw  all  the  world  across  sea  and  land.  There  was  but  a  glimpse 
of  ruddy  battlements  once  at  a  turn  of  the  road,  through  a  netting 
of  trees  and  branches ;  then  we  were  in  a  green  cutting  in  the  deep 
wood,  where  two  pleasant,  old-fashioned  hotels  faced  each  other. 

We  were  expected  at  the  house  named  after  that  delicate  and 
genial  soul  who  awoke  Europe  and  America  to  the  charm  of  the 
Alhambra.  I  had  hopefully  telegraphed  from  Ronda  that  we 
would  arrive  early,  en  automobile;  nevertheless,  the  landlord, 
knowing  the  route,  was  smilingly  surprised  to  see  us. 

There  was  a  telegram ;  that  was  the  first  thing  we  learned ;  and 
it  was  from  Colonel  O'Donnel;  but  he  had  no  news  to  tell.  He 
merely  wired  his  advice  that,  if  possible,  Senor  Waring  should 
come  back  to  Seville  immediately,  as  his  evidence  was  now  want- 
ed in  the  affair  of  the  bomb. 

Dick  at  once  said  that  he  would  not  desert  me,  but  I  urged 
upon  him  the  advisability  of  going.  He  had  seen  me  through  my 
great  adventure ;  and  if  Carmona  and  the  others  were  in  Granada 
there  was  nothing  he  could  do  at  the  moment  which  I  could  not 
do  for  myself.  If  he  failed  to  appear  in  Seville,  there  might  be 
trouble;  and  should  I  find  that  I  needed  his  help,  I  would  tele- 
graph. 

Pilar's  name  was  not  spoken,  but  it  rang  in  our  thoughts,  and 
Dick  could  not  hide  the  flash  of  eagerness  that  lit  his  eyes.  Per- 
haps by  this  time  she  would  have  made  up  her  mind  whether  he 
were  to  have  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  for  his  answer. 

"  My  going  shall  depend  on  whether  Carmona's  here  or  not," 
he  said ;  and  I  turned  to  the  landlord  with  a  question.  Did  he  know 
whether  the  Duke  of  Carmona  and  his  mother  had  come,  and 
brought  friends  to  their  palace  in  Granada  ? 

The  Spaniard  laughed.  He  knew  but  too  well,  since  the  arrival 
of  the  distinguished  family  had  roused  something  like  an  emeute 
in  his  and  other  hotels.  Carmona  palace  was  perhaps  the 
most  interesting  show-place  left  in  the  town  of  Granada,  except 
the  tombs  of  los  Reyes  Catolicos  in  the  cathedral.  It  was  the 


304  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

palace  where  Boabdil  had  fled  from  his  father's  wrath;  and  after 
the  Alhambra  and  the  Generalife  it  was  the  one  thing  that  tourists 
came  to  see.  Now  they  were  prevented  from  seeing  it  by  the  arriv- 
al of  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  a  calamity  which  did  not  happen 
in  the  high  season  once  in  ten  years.  If  the  house  (which  had  in 
these  days  but  one  grand  suite  of  furnished  and  habitable  rooms) 
was  occupied  by  its  owners,  it  was  usually  for  a  few  weeks  in 
the  height  of  summer,  after  strangers  had  ceased  to  come  south ; 
or  else  in  the  autumn,  before  the  time  for  travellers.  Now  there 
was  great  dissatisfaction  among  the  foreign  visitors,  who  con- 
sidered themselves  defrauded  of  their  rights.  Yesterday  morning 
several  parties  of  tourists  had  insisted  upon  an  entrance,  and  in 
the  afternoon,  in  fulfilment  of  the  Duke's  request,  two  civil 
guards  had  been  stationed  before  the  door  to  keep  would-be 
intruders  at  a  distance. 

This  did  not  seem  a  hopeful  outlook  for  me,  in  case  I  wished 
to  try  some  such  coup  d'etat  as  I  had  planned  in  Seville.  But  there 
would  be  other  ways  of  reaching  Monica,  I  told  myself,  when 
the  landlord  had  gone  on  to  say  that  the  Duke  was  supposed  to 
be  seriously  ill.  If  Carmona  were  suffering,  he  would  not  be  able 
to  watch  the  members  of  his  household  as  closely  as  before,  and 
it  ought  not  to  be  impossible  to  let  Monica  know  that  I  was  in 
Granada.  Once  she  understood  that  I  was  ready  and  waiting  to 
take  her  away,  means  would  be  found  to  reach  her. 

There  was  only  time,  when  Dick  had  finally  decided  to  go,  for 
a  bath  and  breakfast  before  I  spun  him  down  to  the  station  for 
the  morning  train. 

Meanwhile  I  had  learned  that  every  room  in  our  landlord's 
two  hotels  was  occupied,  for  it  was  the  most  crowded  season. 
But  I  was  to  have  a  villa  belonging  to  the  hotels  given  to  me  for 
my  entire  use,  a  villa  in  an  old  Moorish  garden  of  tinkling  foun- 
tains, flowing  rills,  rose-entwined  miradores,  jasmine  arbours, 
myrtle  hedges,  and  magnolia  trees.  The  Carmen  de  Mata  Moros 
was  to  be  mine  for  as  few  days  or  as  many  weeks  as  I  chose  to 
remain.  Satisfied,  therefore,  that  I  should  not  have  to  camp  under 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  305 

the  trees  of  the  park,  I  determined,  when  I  had  seen  Dick  off, 
to  put  up  the  car  in  the  town  of  Granada,  and  reconnoitre  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Carmona  palace. 

An  inquiry  here  and  there  took  me  to  the  street  without  much 
delay.  The  palace,  sacred  to  memories  of  Boabdil,  his  gentle 
Sultana  Zorayda,  and  his  stern  mother  Ayxa,  was  to  be  found  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  Albaicin,  that  part  of  Granada  once  favoured 
by  the  Moorish  aristocracy,  now  almost  given  up  to  the  poorer 
Spaniards,  and  gypsies  rich  enough  and  sophisticated  enough  to 
desert  their  caves.  Ferdinand  and  Isabel  had  granted  the  house 
to  a  rich  Moorish  noble  who  had  fore-sworn  his  religion  to  help 
them  in  their  wars,  and  who  became  the  first  Duque  de  Cannona, 
owner  of  many  estates  and  many  palaces. 

My  landlord  had  not  been  misinformed.  The  fine  entrance, 
with  its  fifteenth  century  Spanish  coat  of  arms  over  the  Moorish 
portal,  was  kept  by  two  civil  guards.  I  walked  up,  and  with  the 
air  of  a  tourist,  inquired  how  soon  the  palace  would  be  open  to 
visitors.  The  men  could  not  tell  me.  Was  the  Duke  ill?  They 
believed  so.  And  as  I  could  get  nothing  further  from  them  I  walk- 
ed away. 

Above,  on  the  hill,  clustered  the  red  towers  of  the  Alhambra. 
I  fancied  that  in  those  towers  there  must  be  windows  which  over- 
looked the  patio  of  Boabdil's  old  palace,  and  I  resolved  to  prove 
this  presently,  but  I  was  not  yet  ready  to  leave  the  Albaicin. 

I  had  brought  down  my  Kodak  as  an  excuse  for  lingering,  and 
now  I  began,  within  sight  of  Carmona's  doors,  to  take  leisurely 
snapshots.  When  I  had  been  thus  engaged  for  nearly  half  an 
hour,  I  saw  a  young  woman,  evidently  a  servant,  leaving  the 
palace  with  a  small  bundle  under  her  arm ;  and  without  appear- 
ing to  notice  her,  I  strolled  in  the  direction  she  was  taking.  Once 
beyond  eyeshot  of  the  civil  guards,  I  spoke  to  the  girl,  taking  off 
my  hat  politely. 

'*  You  are  from  the  Duke  of  Carmona's  ? "  I  said.  "  I  am  an 
acquaintance  of  his,  and  intended  to  call,  but  I  hear  he  is  seeing 
no  one." 


306  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"That  is  true,  senor,"  replied  the  girl,  a  handsome  creature  of 
the  gypsy  type,  with  bold  eyes  which  took  in  every  detail  of  my 
features  and  clothing.  "His  Grace  arrived  very  fatigued  and  is 
obliged  to  lie  in  bed;  which  is  inconvenient,  as  there  are  foreign 
guests  who  must  be  so  constantly  entertained  by  Her  Grace  the 
Duchess,  that  she  has  no  time  to  nurse  her  son." 

"  I  trust  he  has  a  clever  doctor,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  a  very  clever  one,"  the  girl  answered  eagerly.  **  Not  an 
ordinary  physician,  but  a  wonderful  person.  My  brother  knows 
him  well,  and  goes  into  the  Sierra  to  find  herbs  and  flowers  for 
his  medicines  and  balsams." 

Evidently  the  girl  was  proud  of  the  acquaintance,  and  I 
humoured  her. 

"  Such  remedies  are  good  in  cases  of  fever  and  malaria,"  I  said. 

"  And  for  many  other  things,"  she  persisted.  "  His  Grace  has 
contracted  some  poisoning  of  the  hand.  I  do  not  know  how;  but 
he  is  better  already,  and  will  no  doubt  soon  be  well.  If  the  senor 
would  care  to  send  a  line  of  sympathy,  I  might  arrange  for  it  to 
reach  the  Duke.  At  present  not  even  the  most  intimate  friends 
are  admitted,  but  I  am  in  the  confidence  of  Her  Grace's  maid, 
who  came  with  her  from  Seville.  Indeed  I'm  now  on  the  way  to 
do  an  errand  for  her." 

I  caught  at  this  opening. 

"  I  should  like  to  send  a  note,"  I  said,  "  but  not  to  the  Duke." 

Having  got  so  far,  I  took  a  roll  of  bank-notes  from  my  pocket, 
as  we  strolled  slowly  on  together.  A  young  woman  so  anxious  to 
convey  an  impression  of  her  own  importance,  must  have  am- 
bitions beyond  her  place  in  life. 

The  dark  face  sparkled  at  sight  of  the  money,  and  tactfully  I 
explained  that  my  principal  interest  centred  in  a  young  guest 
of  the  Duchess's.  Any  person  who  could  take  word  from  me  to 
her,  unknown  to  others,  would  be  well  rewarded.  I  should  not 
think  five  hundred  pesetas  too  much,  to  give  for  such  a  service. 

A  hint  was  enough.  In  an  instant  the  girl  became  a  woman  of 
business  and  a  mistress  of  intrigue.  She  would  not,  she  said,  dare 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  307 

attempt  to  deliver  a  note.  It  would  be  simpler,  less  dangerous  for 
all  concerned,  to  be  at  work  in  a  corridor  through  which  the 
English  senorita  must  pass ;  to  murmur  a  few  words  which  would 
attract  her  attention ;  to  receive  a  verbal  message  in  return ;  and 
to  bring  it  to  me  when  she  could  —  not  to-day ;  that  would  be 
impossible;  but  to-morrow  evening  about  nine,  at  which  time 
she  had  already  permission  to  go  out. 

Should  I  trust  her  ?  Her  face  was  one  to  inspire  a  man's  ad- 
miration rather  than  trust,  but  I  had  no  alternative.  If  I  surren- 
dered this  chance,  I  should  hardly  find  another  as  promising; 
and  as  I  must  depend  upon  someone  in  Carmona's  house,  why 
not  upon  this  woman  ?  The  bribe  I  offered  was  tempting  enough 
to  keep  her  true,  if  anything  could. 

I  hesitated  no  more  than  a  moment  in  accepting  her  amend- 
ment of  my  proposal,  since  she  assured  me  it  was  impossible  to 
make  an  appointment  sooner.  And  the  message  I  sent  Monica 
was  cautiously  worded. 

The  friends  who  had  seen  her  last  in  the  catherdal  of  Seville 
were  anxious  to  see  her  again,  and  begged  that  she  would  arrange 
to  meet  them  as  soon  as  possible,  to  carry  out  the  plan  which 
had  been  interrupted. 

The  girl  repeated  these  words  after  me,  promised  to  remember 
them  and  give  me  the  answer  to-morrow  night  at  nine,  in  case  any 
message  were  entrusted  to  her.  We  were  not  to  meet  at  the  same 
place,  however,  but  on  the  Alhambra  Hill,  in  the  road  leading 
up  from  the  "  Wasinton  "  (as  she  called  the  hotel)  to  the  Carmen 
de  Mata  Moros.  She  had  a  brother  living  not  far  from  there,  she 
said,  whom  she  expected  to  visit  the  following  evening.  I  offered 
half  the  money  in  advance  as  an  incentive  to  loyalty,  and  it  was 
accepted  with  dignity.  Then,  when  we  were  parting,  I  asked  if 
one  could  see  into  the  palace  patio  from  the  Alhambra,  which 
towered  above  us  on  the  height. 

"From  the  middle  window  of  the  Sala  de  Amoajadores  the 
senor  will  find  himself  able  to  see  very  well,"  she  answered. 
"And  there  is  still  another  patio,  into  which  there  is  a  better 


308  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

view  from  the  gardens  of  the  Generalife.  Certainly  the  gardens 
are  very  high  and  far;  but  if  the  senor  has  a  spy-glass  of  some 
sort  ?  And  it  he  chooses  I  can  try  to  tell  the  young  lady  that  he 
will  be  first  in  one  place,  then  in  the  other,  hoping  for  a  sight  of 
her.  Let  us  say,  in  the  afternoon  between  four  and  six  at  the 
Alhambra;  after  that,  at  the  Generalife,  till  the  sun  is  gone." 

This  neat  plan  was  worth  an  extra  twenty-five  peseta  note, 
and  I  gave  it.  Afterwards,  having  no  other  personal  affairs  to 
distract  my  attention,  I  wandered  through  the  streets  of  Granada 
and  into  the  chill  cathedral  before  going  up  to  make  acquain- 
tance with  the  Carmen  de  Mata  Moros. 

When  I  had  seen  the  villa,  with  its  enchanting  terraced  garden, 
hanging  on  the  hillside  high  above  the  Vega,  a  wild  hope  blazed 
within  me  that  I  might  snatch  Monica,  persuade  the  English 
Consul  to  marry  us,  and  keep  her  here  for  the  honeymoon, 
flaunting  my  happiness  in  Carmona's  face.  Of  course  the  idea 
was  fantastic,  but  it  gave  me  a  few  moments  of  happiness. 

I  lunched  in  the  garden  under  the  thick  shade  of  nisperos 
trees,  and  before  the  time  agreed  upon  I  started  to  walk  to  the 
Alhambra. 

Not  for  worlds  would  I  have  taken  a  guide  to  show  the  way. 
All  my  life,  since  the  days  when  my  mother  told  me  legends  of 
treasure  hidden  and  Moorish  warriors  enchanted,  the  Alhambra 
had  been  a  fairy  dream  to  me.  There  was  no  one  in  the  world, 
save  only  Monica,  whose  company  I  would  have  craved  for  this 
expedition.  Other  people's  thoughts  and  impressions  of  the  place 
might  be  better  than  mine,  but  I  did  not  want  to  hear  them; 
I  wanted  only  my  own. 

Under  the  huge  leaning  elms,  which  people  who  trust  guide- 
books attribute  to  Wellington,  I  wandered  until  I  came  to  a 
great  red  tower,  with  a  horseshoe  arch  for  entrance.  There  on 
the  keystone  was  the  carved  hand;  beyond,  over  the  arch  within, 
the  key;  and  remembering  the  legend  that  never  would  disaster 
come  until  the  Hand  had  grasped  the  Key,  I  knew  that  this 
must  be  the  Gate  of  Justice. 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  309 

Now,  a  spell  fell  upon  me.  It  was  as  if  the  Hand  had  come 
down  to  touch  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  give  the  Key  to  hidden 
wonders,  which  only  I  might  be  allowed  to  see.  That  was  the 
fiction  with  which  I  pleased  myself;  for  he  who  comes  to  the  most 
famous  of  places  is  as  truly  a  discoverer  as  he  who  finds  a  new 
world.  No  matter  how  much  he  has  read,  how  many  faithful 
photographs  seen,  he  must  discover  everything  anew,  since  it  is 
certain  that  nowhere  will  he  find  anything  more  than  he  has  with- 
in himself.  The  picture  he  sees  will  fit  the  frame  his  mind  can 
give,  and  no  one  ever  has,  no  one  ever  will,  see  there  exactly 
what  he  sees.  If  a  man's  mind  cannot  create  a  beautiful  frame, 
then  the  picture  must  have  but  a  poor  effect  for  him,  and  he 
will  go  away  belittling  it. 

Now,  I  believed  that  I  had  been  making  a  fine  jewelled  frame 
for  this  picture  of  the  Alhambra,  and  I  hoped  that  I  deserved 
the  Key  which  the  Hand  had  lent. 

Inside  the  gateway,  when  I  had  climbed  a  winding  lane,  I 
found  myself  in  the  great  Place  of  the  Cisterns,  which,  with  the 
vast  incongruous  palace  half  finished  by  Charles  the  Fifth,  I 
recognized  from  many  pictures ;  but  not  yet  would  I  look  down 
over  Granada  and  the  Vega.  I  would  wait  until  I  could  stand 
at  a  window  in  the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors  and  see  what 
I  had  been  promised.  So,  without  a  glance  over  the  parapet,  I 
walked  on  to  an  open  door,  where  stood  two  or  three  men  in 
gold-laced  hats.  One  moved  resignedly  forward  to  act  as  guide, 
but  a  word  and  a  piece  of  silver  convinced  him  that  I  was  a  person 
who  might  be  trusted  alone,  though  I  lacked  a  student's  ticket. 

I  passed  through  the  room  devoted  to  officialdom,  and  then  — 
the  time  had  come  to  use  the  key,  for  I  was  already  in  fairyland ; 
the  covers  of  the  "Arabian  Nights"  had  closed  on  me,  and  shut 
me  in  between  the  pages. 

Physically  I  was  not  alone;  for  there  were  faded  and  strident 
tourists  in  the  marble-paved  court  of  the  Alberca,  whom  I  fain 
would  have  had  stopped  outside  and  put  into  appropriate  cos- 
tume for  fairyland ;  but  spiritually  I  had  the  place  to  myself. 


310  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  little  glittering  fish,  like  tropical  flowers  under  green  glass, 
flashed  towards  me  through  the  beryl  water,  just  as  ancestor  fish 
had  flashed  when  jewelled  hands  of  harem  beauties  crumbled 
cake  into  the  gleaming  tank.  My  mother  had  told  me  a  legend, 
that  fair  favourites  of  banished  sultans  prayed  to  return  after 
death  to  the  Alhambra,  in  the  bronze  and  gold,  rose  and  purple 
forms  of  these  fish  of  the  Alberca;  and  now  I  half  believed  the 
story.  Where  —  since  Mahomet  grants  no  heaven  to  women  — 
could  they  be  happier  than  here  ?  Floating  ever  under  their  roof 
of  emerald,  did  they  think  themselves  more  fortunate  than  their 
husbands,  lovers,  and  brothers  permitted  to  rest  within  the  Al- 
hambra walls  in  the  guise  of  martens  wailing  shrilly  for  days 
that  might  not  come  again  ? 

Dreaming,  I  passed  into  the  Court  of  Lions,  where  I  and  the 
twelve  quaint,  stone  guardians  of  the  place  stared  at  one  another 
across  a  few  feet  of  marble  pavement  that  measured  centuries. 
Each  prim  beast,  beautiful  because  of  his  crude  hideousness 
differing  from  his  fellows ;  each  with  a  different  story  to  tell  if 
he  would.  Which  one  remembered  that  night  when  the  brave 
Abencerrages  faced  death,  there  in  the  hall  to  the  right,  where 
the  fountain  kept  ominous  stains  of  brown  ?  Which  had  the  see- 
ing eye  in  these  fallen  times,  to  watch  when  the  ghost  of  those 
noble  Moors  passed  by  silent  and  sad  in  the  moonlight?  Upon 
which  had  blood-drops  spattered  when  the  boy  princes  died  for 
jealous  Fatima's  pleasure?  Which  had  known  the  touch  of 
Morayma's  little  hand  or  lovely  Galiana's  ? 

I  asked  the  questions;  yet  the  deep  answering  silence  of  the 
court,  and  of  all  this  hidden,  secret,  fairy  palace  seemed  to  say 
so  much  that  it  was  not  like  silence,  but  reserve. 

"The  Alhambra  is  music  and  colour  and  knowledge,"  I  said 
to  the  lions.  "  When  I  am  gone  I  shall  shut  my  eyes  and  hear  as 
well  as  see  it;  hear  the  magic  music  of  the  silence,  played  on 
silver  lutes  of  Moors,  and  tinkling  fountains,  a  siren's  song  to 
draw  me  back  again ;  and  I  shall  know  and  feel  things  which  I've 
never  been  able  to  think  out  quite  clearly  before." 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  311 

Would  Monica  come  here  ?  I  wondered.  No  face  more  lovely 
than  hers  had  ever  looked  down  from  those  latticed  windows 
supported  by  pillars  delicate  as  a  child's  white  arm.  If  I  could 
but  see  her  face  now !  Not  seeing  it,  I  knew  that  no  place,  how- 
ever beautiful,  could  be  perfect  for  me.  Shadows  of  sorrow,  of 
separation,  would  stand  out  the  blacker  against  the  sunlit, 
jewelled  walls  of  the  fairy  palace ;  and  even  happiness  must  sing 
in  minor  notes  here,  lest  it  strike  out  a  discord  in  the  tragic 
poem  of  the  Alhambra.  No  wonder,  in  losing  their  crown 
jewel,  the  Moors  lost  hope,  and  with  it  all  the  art  and 
science  which  had  set  them  far  above  their  Christian  rivals! 
No  wonder  they  plunged,  despairing,  into  the  deserts  they 
had  left,  mingling  among  savage  races  as  some  bright  spring 
mingles  with  a  dark  subterranean  river,  never  to  glitter  in  the 
light  again. 

But  none  of  my  day  dreams  cheated  me  into  losing  count  of 
time. 

If  my  messenger  were  true,  soon  Monica  would  be  in  one  of 
the  patios  of  Carmona's  palace,  looking  up  at  the  Alhambra 
towers.  "  The  middle  window  as  you  go  into  the  Hall  of  the  Am- 
bassadors," I  repeated,  and  found  my  way  back  through  the 
court  of  the  Alberca;  for  you  do  not  need  to  know  the  Alhambra 
to  find  your  way  from  sala  to  sola,  seen  a  hundred  times  in  im- 
agination. 

So  beautiful  had  I  guessed  that  room  above  all  others,  that  I 
had  not  expected  to  be  surprised ;  yet  I  was  surprised,  and  oddly 
excited,  for  supreme  beauty  is  always  exciting  to  the  Latin  mind. 
A  vast  bower  of  jewels,  and  old  point-lace  embroidered  with 
tarnished  gold  threads  and  yellowing  pearls,  it  seemed ;  its  portals 
lace-curtained  too;  rich  hanging  folds  of  lace  and  fringe,  like 
the  lifted  drapery  of  a  sultan's  tent,  supported  on  delicate  poles 
of  polished  ivory. 

Behind  me  was  the  beryl  block  of  the  fish-pond,  set  in  silver 
instead  of  marble  by  the  sunshine  in  the  court.  Before  me,  across 
the  pink-jewelled  dusk  of  the  Sala  de  los  Ambajadores,  a  blue 


312  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

and  green  picture  of  sky  and  mountains  was  framed  by  lace  and 
precious  stones. 

I  walked  to  the  middle  window  and  looked  sheer  down  over 
tall  tree-tops  to  the  valley  of  the  Darro,  where  the  roofs  of  the 
Albaicin  clustered  together,  softly  grey  and  glistening  as  the 
ruffled  plumage  of  nestling  birds. 

Far  away  to  the  left  lay  the  Vega,  shimmering  under  a  mist  of 
heat,  which  gave  the  look  of  a  crystal  sea  engulfing  the  plain, 
trees  and  scattered  villages  gleaming  through  the  transparent 
flood.  Straight  before  my  eyes,  on  the  cactus-clothed  shoulder  of 
a  hill  opposite  the  tower,  glittered  a  splash  of  whitewash  dotted 
with  black  holes,  which  were  the  doors  and  windows  of  gypsy 
caverns.  And  above  me,  to  the  right  on  a  higher  hillside,  rose  the 
towers  and  miradores  of  that  ancient  "summer  palace  of  de- 
lights," the  Generalife. 

One  sweeping  glance  gave  me  these  details;  then,  adjusting 
the  field-glass  I  had  brought,  I  fixed  my  attention  on  a  house 
near  the  Albaicin,  which  I  easily  identified  as  Carmona's  palace. 

Gazing  down  from  such  a  height,  I  had  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
double  patios  thick  with  clustering  shrubs,  orange  trees,  and 
cypresses.  The  powerful  glasses  brought  out  clearly  the  delicate 
marble  pillars  supporting  the  Moorish  archways  of  the  upper 
gallery  in  one  of  these  patios;  but  the  other  was  shrouded  for  me 
by  a  group  of  cypresses. 

For  a  long  time  I  waited  —  hours  it  seemed ;  but  no  one  moved 
along  the  gallery  or  appeared  in  the  half -shuttered  windows  that 
looked  down  into  the  court;  and  at  last  I  decided  to  try  the  gar- 
dens of  the  Generalife,  which  I  had  been  told  commanded  the 
second  patio. 

Once,  said  legend,  a  prince  had  been  secluded  by  his  father 
in  those  gardens  and  those  towers,  lest  he  see  the  face  of  a  woman, 
and  learn  sorrow  through  love;  nevertheless,  he  had  found  out  the 
great  secret,  and  had  had  news  of  the  most  beautiful  lady  in  the 
world.  I  hoped,  as  I  walked  along  the  avenue  of  cypresses,  that 
I  might  be  as  fortunate;  and  in  the  gardens  all  things  spoke  of 


WILES  AND  ENCHANTMENTS  313 

love.  There,  under  the  giant  cypress,  the  handsome  Abencerrage 
had  come  to  keep  the  tryst  which  cost  his  head,  and  thirty-five 
others  as  noble.  There,  at  the  top  of  that  shaded  flight  of  stone 
steps,  whose  balustrades  were  jewelled  with  running  water, 
Prince  Ahmed  had  sat  to  play  his  lute.  From  that  arcaded  bal- 
cony Zorayda  had  looked  when  love  was  young,  and  Boabdil 
still  the  lover.  In  the  mirrors  of  the  water-pafo'o  Galiana  had  bent 
to  her  own  image  and  asked,  "  Am  I  worthy  to  be  loved  ?  " 

Out  of  the  tangle  of  red  and  white  roses,  bunched  in  with  gold- 
en oranges  and  scented  blooms  mingling  together  in  one  huge 
bouquet,  I  looked  to  find  my  love.  It  was  true,  I  could  see  clearly 
now  into  the  cypress  patio;  and  suddenly  a  white  figure  came 
out  from  a  window  upon  the  gallery.  The  glass  at  my  eye,  I 
thought  I  recognized  Monica's  slender  girlishness ;  but  a  moment 
later  a  larger  form  appeared.  The  two  women  stood  together 
looking  up,  Lady  Vale-Avon  pointing  towards  the  towers  of  the 
Alhambra  or  the  Generalife. 

Was  it  possible  she  saw  me  ?  Yet  no,  she  could  not  without 
glasses.  But  if  Monica  had  indeed  been  told  where  I  would  be 
at  a  certain  time,  could  she  not  have  contrived  some  means  to 
elude  her  mother  and  come  to  the  balcony  alone  ? 

Long  after  the  two  vanished  I  lingered;  waited  until  sunset; 
waited  until  the  sky  was  flooded  with  rose  and  gold,  and  towers 
and  hills  were  purple  in  a  violet  mist.  But  Monica  did  not  come 
again. 

If  she  had  not  been  given  the  message,  what  guarantee  had  I 
that  she  would  receive  the  other  far  more  important  ? 

It  was  in  a  fever  of  uncertainty  that  I  must  spend  the  next 
four-and-twenty  hours. 


XXXVII 

DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING 

THAT  night,  in  my  villa  above  "the  road  of  the  great 
Moor-killing, "  the  nightingales  were  the  only  serenos. 
Their  song  was  the  song  of  the  stars;  and  the  song  of 
the  stars  was  the  song  of  the  nightingales.  At  dawn, 
from  my  window,  I  was  taken  into  the  private  life  of  my  neigh- 
bour birds.  I  heard  them  wake  each  other;  I  saw  them  make 
their  toilets;  and  from  the  town  far  below  my  terraced  garden 
the  sound  of  bells  came  up  —  church  bells,  bells  of  mules  and 
horses  beginning  work,  while  their  masters  sang  coplas  with  a 
lilting  Moorish  wail. 

Once  again  I  went  down  to  look  at  Cannona's  door,  to  find  it 
still  kept  by  guardia  civile;  and  most  of  the  day  I  spent  in 
the  Alhambra,  seeing  rooms  and  courts  I  had  missed  yesterday, 
looking  down  often  into  the  patio  of  the  palace  in  the  Albaicin. 

I  dined  in  the  hotel  garden,  and  before  nine  I  was  at  the  ap- 
pointed spot  in  the  road  outside  the  high  wall  of  my  Carmen. 
The  moments  passed  as  I  walked  up  and  down,  my  cigarette  a 
spot  of  fire  in  the  growing  moonlight;  still  the  gypsy-faced  girl 
did  not  come. 

Twenty  minutes  late,  said  my  watch,  and  as  I  stared  at  it, 
a  man  stopped  in  front  of  me. 

"  Is  the  noble  senor  expecting  someone  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  put  my  watch  away  and  looked  at  him.  The  moon,  obscured 
though  it  was  by  clouds,  showed  a  tall  figure,  with  strong  shoul- 
ders, and  a  face  which  seemed  in  the  night  as  dark  as  a  Moor's. 
The  man  had  lifted  his  hat  from  his  thick  black  hair,  and  I  said 

314 


DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  315 

to  myself  that  he  was  a  model  for  an  artist  who  wished  to  paint  a 

gypsy- 
Finding  that  I  did  not  answer  on  the  instant,  he  went  on  — 

"The  senor  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  made  a  mistake;  but 
my  sister,  who  had  an  errand  to  do  for  a  gentleman,  has  sent  me 
in  her  place." 

"  In  that  case  you  have  made  no  mistake, "  I  said.  '*  You  have 
a  message  for  me  from  your  sister  ?  " 

"  And  from  a  lady.  The  message  is,  that  if  the  senor  will  come 
to  my  house  in  an  hour,  he  will  find  what  he  seeks. " 

My  blood  quickened. 

"What  do  I  seek?" 

"A  lady  who  loves  you,  and  has  sent  you  this  through  my 
sister. " 

The  man  produced  a  tiny  white  paper  packet  which  I  took, 
but  would  not  open  in  his  presence. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  lady  will  meet  me  at  your  house  —  to- 
night?" I  asked. 

"  She  hopes  it,  for  there  is  no  other  place  or  way.  My  sister 
will  bring  the  lady ;  but  it  is  not  a  house,  in  your  way  of  speaking, 
senor.  It  is  a  cave  in  the  hillside  which  I  have  made  my  home, 
for  I  am  a  gitano. " 

"You  live  above  the  Albaicin,  in  the  gypsy  quarter,  then?" 
I  said. 

"No,  senor,  nearer  here  than  that.  You  must  have  seen,  if 
you  have  walked  about  the  neighbourhood,  that  there  are  many 
other  caves  which  honeycomb  the  hillsides.  To  find  mine  you 
must  go  towards  the  cemetery,  take  the  first  turn  to  the  right, 
follow  the  winding  road  which  descends,  then  up  a  rough  path, 
and  stop  at  the  first  of  the  three  gypsy  caves.  I  must  not  wait  for 
you,  as  I  have  to  see  that  my  sister  and  the  lady  arrive  safely. 
But  you  cannot  miss  the  place;  and  if  I  am  not  waiting  at  the 
door,  open  it  without  knocking  and  walk  in.  Is  that  understood, 
senor  ?  " 

"Yes,"  I  said. 


316  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"Then  I  will  go  to  watch  for  my  sister  near  the  palace.  At 
half-past  ten,  senor. " 

"  At  half -past  ten. "  I  echoed  his  words,  and  watched  him  out 
of  sight  as  he  tramped  away  in  the  direction  which  would  take 
him  to  the  Albaicin.  Then  I  hurried  back  to  the  villa  and  opened 
the  packet.  It  contained  the  shield-shaped  Toledo  brooch  by 
the  gift  of  which  I  had  infuriated  Carmona;  that,  and  nothing 
besides.  But  —  unless  it  had  been  stolen  from  her  —  it  was 
an  assurance  that  she  had  sent  the  messenger,  that  she  wished 
me  to  trust  him. 

Nevertheless,  there  was  danger  that  I  might  fall  into  a  trap 
in  keeping  a  night  tryst  at  the  cave  of  a  gypsy,  especially  a  gypsy 
who  had  either  deserted  or  been  banished  from  the  colony.  But 
not  to  run  this  risk  was  to  run  a  far  greater  one,  that  of  losing 
the  chance  offered  by  Monica;  and  of  such  an  alternative  I  could 
not  even  think. 

If  I  told  the  man,  Pepe,  who  looked  after  my  wants  at  the  villa 
where  I  intended  to  go,  I  might  succeed  in  compromising  Monica, 
in  case  she  were  so  late  that  Pepe  was  alarmed.  As  her  name 
must  be  kept  out  of  the  affair  at  any  cost,  I  decided  that  due 
caution  would  be  protection  enough.  Unless  the  news  of  my 
presence  in  Granada  had  reached  Carmona  in  his  bed,  there  was 
little  fear  of  treachery;  and  when  I  slipped  into  my  hip  pocket 
the  revolver  bought  in  Madrid,  I  felt  that  I  was  safe. 

It  was  a  dark  and  lonely  road,  that  way  of  the  dead.  Not  a 
soul  had  I  met  when  I  reached  a  narrow  path,  a  mere  goat 
track,  leading  higher  up  the  hillside  to  a  row  of  four  or  five  tiny 
lighted  windows  in  the  rock.  These  must,  I  knew,  mark  the  cave 
dwellings  of  which  the  gypsy  had  spoken,  some  little  offshoot 
from  the  main  settlement  by  the  Albaicin.  The  door  which  I 
reached  first  was  closed.  No  one  stood  waiting,  but  I  opened  it 
and  went  in. 

A  faint  light,  cast  by  a  small  paraffin  lamp  set  in  a  niche 
hollowed  out  of  the  whitewashed  rock,  made  darkness  visible 
in  a  tiny  room  with  a  rough  earthen  floor.  A  red  calico  curtain 


DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  317 

at  the  far  end  signified  a  second  cave-room  beyond.  No  one  was 
visible,  no  one  answered  when  I  spoke,  and  I  sat  down  to  wait 
on  a  dilapidated  rush-bottomed  chair  which  stood  with  its  back 
to  the  red  curtain. 

After  that,  nothing. 

And  then,  dreams. 

There  was  one  dream  about  a  room,  a  large  room  it  seemed 
to  be,  shadowy  in  the  corners,  and  with  walls  where  Christian 
and  Moorish  warriors  fought  in  tapestry,  leaping  off  sometimes 
on  their  stallions,  and  spurring  back  into  place  again. 

In  the  room  was  a  great  bed  with  dark  silk  curtains.  A  man 
lay  in  it,  but  suddenly  sat  up,  and  looked  eagerly  at  something 
which  seemed  to  be  myself,  dead  or  dying.  But  I  did  not  care. 
I  knew  who  he  was,  and  that  we  hated  each  other  for  some  reason 
which  I  could  not  remember,  but  it  was  impossible  to  recall 
his  name.  That  was  twisted  up  in  a  thousand  skeins  of  silk;  or 
was  it  a  woman's  yellow  hair  ? 

The  man  exclaimed,  "  Good  —  very  good, "  more  than  once 
to  someone  I  could  not  see.  Then  he  said,  when  the  someone 
else  had  spoken,  "Only  keep  him  till  after  I'm  married.  I  don't 
care  what  you  do  with  him  after  that.  Fling  him  into  a  well,  or  let 
him  go.  Either  way  he  can  never  find  out  or  prove  anything 
troublesome. " 

This  was  all  of  that  part  of  the  dream,  though  there  was  an- 
other which  came  soon  after,  and  was  somehow  connected  with 
it.  It  was  a  dream  about  a  long  dark  passage,  which  smelled 
like  a  cellar,  and  I  was  being  dragged  through  it  by  two  voices, 
a  thing  which  did  not  appear  at  all  out  of  the  ordinary,  though 
it  was  disagreeable. 

After  that,  concrete  thoughts  were  lost  in  one  tremendous 
throbbing  ache,  which  was  in  the  back  of  my  head  at  first,  but 
spread  slowly  down  the  spine,  until  at  last  my  whole  body  felt  as 
if  it  had  been  pounded  with  giant  hammers. 

I  had  an  idea  at  one  time  that  I  had  fallen  into  the  power  of 


318  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

the  Inquisition,  and  been  tortured  by  the  head  screw  and  the 
rack,  because  often  a  man  in  a  black  capucha  flitted  about  me; 
but  later  I  realized  that  my  suffering  was  caused  by  becoming 
conscious  of  the  world's  motion  —  a  terrible,  ceaseless  whirling, 
which,  being  once  felt,  could  be  escaped  only  in  death. 

This  was  appalling.  I  lived  through  many  years  of  the  horror, 
but  I  fell  off  the  world  at  last  on  to  another  planet,  where  there 
came  a  period  of  peace. 

When  I  waked  up  I  was  looking  at  my  hands. 

To  my  great  surprise  they  were  no  longer  brown  and  strong 
as  a  young  man's  hands  ought  to  be,  but  of  a  sickly  white,  and 
so  thin  that  I  found  myself  laughing  at  them  in  a  slow,  soft  way, 
as  one  laughs  in  one's  sleep. 

At  first  it  did  not  seem  to  matter  that  I  should  have  hands  like 
that;  but  suddenly,  with  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  heart,  I  realized 
that  it  was  unnatural,  dreadful,  that  something  hideous  must 
have  happened  to  me. 

In  a  moment  my  head  was  clear,  and  I  felt  as  if  a  tight  band 
had  been  taken  off  my  forehead. 

Yes,  something  had  happened,  but  what  ? 

I  looked  round  and  saw  a  room  unfamiliar,  yet  already  hated. 
It  was  a  small,  but  beautiful  room,  the  walls  covered  with  Moor- 
ish work,  such  as  I  had  seen  at  the  Alhambra.  I  lay  on  a  divan- 
bed,  in  an  alcove  without  windows;  but  in  the  room  beyond,  I 
saw  one  with  a  dainty  filigree  frame,  supported  by  a  marble 
pillar.  There  was  also  an  archway,  from  which  a  curtain  was 
pushed  aside,  and  I  could  see  the  end  of  a  marble  bath. 

How  had  I  come  to  this  place  ?  Where  was  it,  and  how  long 
had  I  been  there  ?  were  the  next  questions  I  asked  myself. 

There  was  no  more  dreaming  now.  The  room  was  real;  and 
the  whiteness  and  emaciation  of  my  hands  were  real. A  man  must 
have  been  very  ill,  and  for  a  long  time,  to  have  hands  as  white 
and  thin  as  that. 

Suddenly  I  sat  up,  crying  aloud,  "  Monica ! " 


DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  319 

The  sound  of  her  name  brought  her  image  before  me.  What 
horrible  thing  had  been  done  to  me  that  I  should  have  forgotten 
her  very  existence  ? 

Strength  failed,  and  I  fell  back,  a  dampness  coming  out  on  my 
forehead.  Above  all,  what  had  been  done  to  her  ?  "  Don't  leave 
me  alone, "  she  had  begged ;  yet  I  had  deserted  her.  I  was  —  here. 

The  motoring  days  came  back  to  me;  happy,  hopeful  days  in 
the  open  air.  How  long  ago  were  they  that  I  should  be  thus 
broken,  that  I  should  feel  like  a  man  grown  old  ? 

Slowly,  and  cold  as  the  trail  of  a  snake,  a  thought  crawled 
into  my  mind. 

I  remembered  a  short  story  I  had  read  once.  It  was  by  Ger- 
trude Atherton,  and  at  the  time  I  had  thought  it  the  most  harrow- 
ing story  ever  written.  A  woman  had  gone  to  sleep,  young, 
beautiful,  beloved.  She  had  waked  to  find  her  hair  grey,  her 
hands  old  and  veined.  Twenty  blank  years  of  madness  she  had 
spent  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  after  being  driven  mad  by  a  shock, 
waking  to  sanity  at  last  only  to  find  herself  an  old  woman. 

Had  I  been  mad?  Was  I  old  now,  with  my  wasted  white 
hands  ? 

Tingling  with  dread  I  touched  my  face.  My  chin  was  rough 
with  a  stubble  of  beard.  I  fancied  there  were  hollows  in  my 
cheeks.  Was  my  hair  grey  ? 

Somewhere  there  must  be  a  mirror.  I  tried  to  struggle  up  and 
find  it,  that  I  might  see  my  own  image  and  know  the  worst;  but  a 
giddiness  came  over  me,  and  I  had  to  lie  down  again,  or  I  knew 
that  I  should  faint. 

"  I  have  Carmona  to  thank  for  this, "  I  said  aloud,  furiously. 
But  then  I  asked  myself,  how  did  I  know  that  there  ever  had  been 
a  Carmona,  that  there  ever  had  been  a  girl  called  Monica  Vale  ? 
Perhaps  I  had  dreamed  them  both,  in  the  time  of  madness. 

There  had  been  many  dreams.  Suddenly  I  remembered  a 
man's  voice  saying:  "Only  keep  him  till  after  I'm  married." 
The  voice  had  been  Carmona's.  I  knew  that  now. 

No,  I  had  never  been  mad.  A  horrible  trick  had  been  played 


320  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

on  me  —  in  the  gypsy's  cave.  I  remembered  that.  Everything 
was  blank  since,  except  for  the  dreams.  Perhaps  some  of  them 
had  been  true.  Perhaps,  half-unconscious  —  (for  somebody  must 
have  come  out  from  behind  that  red  curtain  and  struck  me  on 
the  head)  —  I  had  been  taken  to  him,  that  he  might  be  sure  it 
was  the  right  man.  Somebody  had  been  ordered  to  keep  me,  until 
after  —  Again  I  sat  up,  with  a  groan.  I  must  get  out  of  this.  I 
must  save  Monica  from  the  man,  and  from  her  own  mother. 
But  —  if  it  was  already  too  late  ? 

There  was  a  sound  in  the  room.  From  a  door  I  could  not  see, 
someone  had  come  in.  A  key  had  turned,  and  was  being  turned 
again.  The  dream  of  the  Inquisition  came  back  to  my  mind,  for 
the  man  in  the  black  capucha  stood  looking  at  me. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked.  Although  for  many  years  I  had 
spoken  English,  and  Spanish  only  for  a  few  weeks,  it  was  mechan- 
ically that  I  used  Spanish  now. 

"Your  good  friend,"  came  from  under  the  capucha,  while 
there  was  a  glitter  of  eyes  through  the  two  slanting  slits  in  the 
black  silk. 

"  If  you're  my  friend,  you'll  let  me  out  of  this  place,  wherever 
it  is, "  I  said. 

"  But  I  am  your  doctor  as  well,  and  you  are  too  weak  to  go 
out.  This  is  the  first  time  you  have  spoken  sensible  words,  and 
now  they  are  not  wise. " 

"  I'm  not  too  weak  to  hear  how  I  came  here,  how  long  I  have 
been,  and  —  "  He  cut  me  short,  with  a  wave  of  a  yellow  old  hand. 
Under  the  capucha  he  wore  an  ordinary  black  coat,  such  as 
elderly  Spaniards  of  the  middle  class  wear  every  day. 

"  You  must  not  excite  yourself, "  he  said.  "  As  for  your  coming 
here,  I  found  you  lying  in  the  road  one  dark  night,  with  your 
head  cut  open,  and  out  of  compassion  I  brought  you  into  my 
house. " 

"  If  you  are  a  doctor,,  and  have  no  reason  to  hide  your  face 
from  me,  why  do  you  cover  it  up  with  a  capucha  ? "  I  went  on 
incredulously. 


DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  321 

"It  is  the  capucha  of  the  cofradia  to  which  I  belong,"  ex- 
plained the  man.  "  I  wear  it  at  certain  hours  because  of  a  vow 
which  will  not  expire  till  Corpus  Christi.  If  I  were  a  wicked 
person,  who  wished  you  harm,  why  need  I  trouble  to  hide 
my  face  so  that  you  should  not  know  it  again  ?  I  live  alone  in 
this  house,  and  if  I  wished  you  evil,  I  need  never  let  you  leave 
these  rooms.  But  instead,  I  have  taken  care  of  you,  and  you  have 
repaid  some  experiments  I  have  made,  for  now  I  think  you  are 
getting  well.  You  have  only  to  be  patient. " 

"Tell  me  how  long  since  you  played  good  Samaritan  and 
picked  me  up  by  the  roadside, "  said  I.  "  Then  perhaps  I  shall 
try  to  be  patient. " 

"  How  long  ?  "  he  echoed.  "  I  can't  tell  you  that.  To  a  philo- 
sopher like  me  days  and  weeks  are  much  the  same. " 

"  Philosophers  have  often  been  in  the  pay  of  dukes, "  I  said. 

"Those  days  have  passed.  I  live  my  life  without  dukes. " 

"Without  the  Duke  of  Cannona?" 

"  The  Duke  of  Cannona  ?  That  is  a  mere  name  to  me.  Why 
do  you  speak  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  can  guess. " 

"  I  fear  that  after  all  your  brain  is  not  clear.  We  must  have  a 
little  more  of  the  good  medicine. " 

Before  I  knew  what  he  meant  to  do,  he  was  out  of  the  alcove, 
and  out  of  sight  in  the  room  beyond.  Again  I  tried  my  strength, 
and  would  have  followed,  but  before  I  could  do  more  than 
struggle  up  from  the  bed,  the  door  had  been  unlocked,  and  locked 
again. 

"  He  must  keep  the  key  in  his  pocket, "  I  thought. 

I  did  not  believe  a  word  of  the  plausible  explanations.  The 
continued  mental  effort  I  had  been  making  had  cleared,  rather 
than  tired  my  brain ;  and  I  was  out  of  that  black  sea  of  horror 
in  which  I  had  been  drowning. 

I  had  not  been  mad,  and  I  could  not  have  been  in  this  house 
for  many  weeks,  since  the  man  in  the  capuclia  talked  of  Corpus 
Christi  as  still  in  the  future. 


322  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

I  remembered  Colonel  O'Donnel's  telegram,  and  his  mention 
of  a  man  in  Granada  whom  Carmona  valued  above  many  doc- 
tors. It  seemed  not  impossible  that  this  person  and  my  "good 
friend  "  were  one  and  the  same;  but  if  —  weak  as  I  was  now  —  I 
hoped  to  get  out  of  his  house  alive,  perhaps  I  had  better  change 
my  tactics,  and  keep  my  suspicions  to  myself,  until  I  should 
recover  strength.  If  the  man  believed  that  he  had  convinced 
me  of  his  innocence  and  kindly  intentions,  he  would  per- 
haps think  it  easier  to  let  me  live  than  to  put  me  violently  out 
of  the  way. 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  cultivate  a  more  reasonable  spirit, 
until  my  body  might  help  me  defend  other  convictions.  And  one 
thing  gave  me  courage  to  keep  the  resolution.  The  fact  that  my 
host  was  not  willing  yet  to  discharge  me  as  cured,  argued  that 
there  was  still  a  strong  motive  for  detaining  me  behind  locked 
doors.  The  time  of  which  Carmona  had  spoken  in  my  dream 
had  not  come.  He  was  not  married  yet,  and  I  said  to  myself  that 
he  never  would  be,  if  it  depended  on  Monica's  consent  to  be 
his  wife. 

Since  that  hour  in  the  cathedral  of  Seville  nothing  would 
make  her  believe  me  disloyal,  I  thought;  therefore  nothing  could 
make  her  disloyal  to  me. 

Knowing  little"  of  illness,  I  trusted  that,  after  all,  I  h?d  not 
been  put  away  here  for  long.  Maybe  a  few  days  of  fever  and 
delirium  would  waste  the  hands  and  bleach  out  the  brown  stain 
of  sunburn.  At  the  moment,  though  I  was  young,  and  had  been 
strong,  I  would  have  no  chance  against  even  an  old  man ;  but  if 
I  ate,  and  could  crawl  up  to  take  a  little  exercise,  a  day  or  two 
ought  to  make  a  vast  difference. 

I  was  still  of  this  mind  when  the  capucha  came  back.  So 
softly  did  he  unlock  the  door  that  I  did  not  hear  him,  but  he  was 
not  as  stealthy  about  locking  it  again.  He  had  brought  me  a 
glass  of  milk;  and  when  I  had  drunk  it  he  asked  me  to  get  up, 
and  let  him  judge  of  my  strength. 

Weak  as  I  was,  I  felt  that  I  could  have  risen,  but  I  determined 


DREAMS  AND  AN  AWAKENING  323 

to  fight  him  with  his  own  weapons.  Making  a  faint  effort,  I  fell 
back  on  the  pillows,  and  closed  my  eyes. 

"  It  will  take  many  more  glasses  of  milk  before  you  need  again 
ask  '  But  when  do  I  leave  you  ? '  "  said  the  voice  through  the 
capucha. 

I  agreed,  and  pleased  myself  with  my  strategy  after  the  man 
had  gone  out,  until  to  my  alarm  I  was  overcome  with  sleep. 

He  had  put  something  into  the  milk. 


XXXVIII 

THE  FOUNTAIN 

i 

IpTH^IHE  delicate  fretwork  of  the  walls  was  blurred  in  twi- 
light when  I  waked  from  heavy,  irresistible  sleep. 

I  felt  dull,  but  could  trace  no  other  bad  effect  from 
the  drug.  Indeed,  I  fancied  that  I  was  stronger;  and 
very  slowly,  with  occasional  rests,  I  got  upon  my  feet  and  began 
to  crawl  about  the  room. 

There  was  very  little  furniture,  but  what  there  was,  was  good, 
and  of  a  graceful  Moorish  design  which  suited  the  wall  decora- 
tion, and  the  horseshoe  shape  of  the  window.  This  had  an  elabo- 
rate lattice  of  wood,  which  let  in  plenty  of  air,  as  there  was  no 
glass;  but  outside  were  six  stout  bars  of  iron,  and  the  lattice  was 
securely  fastened.  I  stared  through  the  pattern  of  wood  into  a 
very  small  but  charming  patio,  paved  with  brick  and  tiles,  and 
having  in  the  centre  a  fountain,  with  a  shallow  basin.  Feathery 
plumes  of  water  played  over  a  few  low  palms  in  great  blue  and 
white  pots  of  Triana  ware,  but  as  I  looked  the  plumes  shrank 
almost  to  nothing,  then  ceased  to  wave.  The  fountain  was  asleep 
for  the  night. 

Supporting  myself  with  a  hand  on  the  wall,  I  got  to  the  room 
of  the  marble  bath.  There,  the  window  was  but  a  foot  square, 
and  was  set  high  in  the  wall.  On  a  low,  carved  bench,  lay  the 
clothing  I  had  worn  on  the  night  of  my  visit  to  the  gypsy's  cave. 
I  sat  down,  and  explored  the  pockets.  What  money  I  had  had  — 
six  or  seven  hundred  pesetas,  so  far  as  I  could  remember  — 
was  gone ;  so  was  my  gold  watch,  and  the  revolver  I  had  so  gaily 
carried  as  a  sure  means  of  self-protection. 

324 


THE  FOUNTAIN  325 

"  Gypsy  perquisites,"  I  said  to  myself,  but  the  sight  of  the 
clothes  brought  back  the  past  so  vividly  that  I  could  see  myself 
bidding  good-bye  to  Dick  at  the  railway  station.  Loyal,  resource- 
ful old  Dick!  Why  had  he  not  found  his  friend  hi  all  this  time, 
while  my  hands  were  growing  white  and  thin  ? 

Surely  there  must  have  been  some  hue  or  cry,  when  I  did  not 
appear  either  at  the  villa  or  the  hotel  ?  A  man  cannot  vanish  off 
the  face  of  the  earth,  I  told  myself,  and  leave  no  trace.  I  longed 
for  the  man  with  the  capucha  to  come  back,  so  that  I  could  ask 
him  more  questions,  even  though  I  could  put  no  faith  in  his 
answers;  but  he  did  not  appear  again  that  night.  I  slept  after  a 
time,  a  sleep  of  exhaustion ;  and  when  I  waked  in  broad  daylight, 
I  found  a  glass  of  milk  on  a  small  Moorish  stand  by  the  bed. 

I  could  not  bear  to  drink  it,  lest  the  same  drug  should  make  me 
sleep  as  before.  But  how  regain  strength  without  food?  And 
evidently  I  was  to  have  this  or  none. 

For  a  time  I  waited,  hoping  that  my  "good  friend"  would 
come,  and  that,  if  I  told  him  I  disliked  milk,  he  would  give  me 
something  else,  not  so  easy  to  mix  with  a  drug.  At  last,  however, 
I  grew  faint.  Perhaps,  I  thought,  the  milk  was  innocent  this  time. 
I  drank,  and  the  same  heaviness  overcame  me.  So,  through  most 
of  the  day  I  slept,  and  raged  against  myself  when  I  awoke. 

Again,  a  full  glass  stood  by  the  bedside,  but  I  would  not  drink. 
Many  hours  of  dozing  had  left  me  wakeful;  and  my  eyes  were 
wide  open  when,  an  hour  or  two  after  dawn,  the  door  in  the  outer 
room  was  softly  unlocked. 

He  had  not  forgotten  his  capucha,  though  he  must  have  ex- 
pected to  find  me  asleep.  In  his  hand  was  a  glass  of  milk,  but 
when  he  had  seen  that  I  lay  awake,  he  saw  also  that  the  other 
glass  had  not  been  touched. 

I  was  neither  hungry  no  thirsty,  I  said  in  excuse.  And  I  could 
not  rest  because  I  was  not  comfortable.  It  had  got  upon  my 
nerves,  I  explained,  to  feel  my  hair  long  on  my  neck  and  my  face 
unshaven.  Would  my  host  get  in  a  barber? 

The  man  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  that  he  would 


326  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

do  his  best  as  a  barber.  At  present,  and  until  his  vow  had  been 
accomplished,  he  did  not  go  out,  except  after  nightfall,  and  there- 
fore could  not  ask  anyone  to  come  to  the  house. 

The  instant  he  had  turned  his  back,  I  slipped  off  the  bed,  so 
that  I  might  be  ready  to  stagger  as  well  as  I  could  from  my  alcove, 
and  pounce  upon  him  when  he  had  the  door  open ;  for  I  believed 
that  I  was  strong  enough  now  to  have  some  chance.  But  his  hear- 
ing must  have  been  keen,  for  he  turned,  and  told  me  not  to  exert 
myself.  What  —  I  was  only  getting  up  so  as  to  be  ready  when  he 
came  back  with  shears  and  razor  ?  I  need  not  trouble.  He  would 
do  all  while  I  was  in  bed;  and  he  would  wait  until  he  had  seen 
me  return  there. 

He  was  master  of  the  situation,  and  knew  it.  I  was  obliged  to 
give  him  his  way;  and  afterwards  he  was  so  quick  in  getting  to 
the  door  that,  in  my  weak  state,  I  could  not  have  reached  him 
in  time. 

When  he  came  back,  however,  I  was  ready.  Waiting  just  in- 
side the  door,  as  it  was  cautiously  opened  I  threw  myself  upon 
him.  But  I  had  overestimated  my  strength,  and  underestimated 
his.  Quick  and  lithe  as  a  leopard,  the  old  man  wound  himself 
round  me,  and  for  a  moment  we  struggled  together  for  the  mas- 
tery, I  thinking  of  the  razor  he  had  promised  to  bring,  and  hoping 
to  get  it.  If  I  could  do  that,  I  should  be  able  to  keep  him  at  bay, 
without  any  violence,  save  threats. 

Once,  I  had  almost  got  him  down,  or  he  let  me  fancy  it;  but 
with  a  sudden  twist  he  caused  me  to  lose  my  balance,  which  was 
none  too  steady.  I  slipped  on  the  tiled  floor,  and  had  half  saved 
myself  when  a  quick  push  sent  me  staggering  back.  Instantly 
the  capucha  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  door,  a  bolt  slid  into 
place,  and  the  key  turned  in  the  lock. 

Rage  gave  me  a  brief  spurt  of  strength.  I  caught  up  the  carved 
wooden  bench  in  the  bathroom,  and  dashed  it  furiously  again 
and  again  against  a  panel  of  the  door.  But  the  strong  wood  did 
not  even  crack  under  my  blows. 

As  hour  after  hour  passed,  and  I  was  left  alone,  from  time  to 


THE  FOUNTAIN  327 

time  I  renewed  my  efforts,  with  no  result  except  that  eventually 
I  broke  the  bench.  Then  I  tore  at  the  lattice  of  the  window, 
thrusting  my  fingers  through,  and  trying  vainly  to  pull  the  wood- 
work to  pieces.  Though  the  iron  bars  on  the  outside  would 
prevent  my  escaping  into  the  patio,  I  thought,  if  the  lattice  were 
broken,  shouts  might  be  heard  more  easily. 

At  last,  when  I  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  hope,  I  pressed  my 
face  against  the  close  pattern  of  the  woodwork  and  yelled  lustily, 
till  my  voice  failed.  But  my  own  shouts  were  the  only  sounds  I 
heard,  save  distant  church  bells,  and  the  singing  of  subterra- 
nean waters,  silent  only  at  night  when  the  fountain  went  to 
sleep.  It  would  be  all  but  impossible,  I  had  to  admit,  for  anyone 
outside  to  judge  the  direction  of  a  cry,  coming  through  a  screened 
window  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  high  house  walls. 

Darkness  fell ;  and  I  grew  so  hungry  that  I  would  gladly  have 
drunk  the  milk  left  since  morning.  I  tasted  it,  and  found  it  spoiled 
by  the  heat,  for  the  day  had  been  warm.  In  disgust  I  threw  it 
away,  but  when  all  that  night  had  gone  and  part  of  the  next  day, 
I  regretted  my  fastidiousness. 

Frequent  draughts  of  water  from  the  room  of  the  marble  bath 
gave  me  an  occasional  fillip,  but  a  man  recovering  from  conges- 
tion of  the  brain  or  some  such  malady,  following  the  breaking 
of  his  head,  cannot  live  long  on  water;  and  it  was  clear  that  my 
host,  disgusted  with  my  "  ingratitude,"  intended  to  punish  me 
cruelly  or  to  put  an  end  to  me  by  starvation. 

When  the  second  night  closed  in,  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
he  had  decided  upon  my  death.  Perhaps,  if  I  had  been  docile, 
when  the  time  fixed  by  his  employer  had  expired,  he  might  have 
chosen  to  set  me  free,  trusting  that  I  believed  his  story.  But  see- 
ing that  I  did  not  believe  it,  that  I  would  spare  no  effort,  no  trick, 
which  might  enable  me  to  escape  while  my  presence  in  the  out- 
side world  was  still  highly  undesirable,  the  man  had  probably 
crushed  all  humane  feeling  for  his  prisoner.  Since  no  one  had 
sought  me,  living,  in  his  house,  it  was  unlikely  that  I  should  be 
sought  for  there  when  dead. 


328  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

I  was  at  the  window,  as  I  told  myself  these  things,  looking  out 
into  the  patio,  where  the  palms,  and  the  shell  which  was  the  upper 
basin  of  the  fountain,  were  faintly  definable  in  starlight.  Robbed 
of  my  watch,  the  only  way  I  had  of  calculating  time  after  night- 
fall was  by  the  silence  which  came  about  an  hour  after  sunset. 
Then  the  gurgling  voice  of  hidden  water  (which  sang  under- 
ground in  this  secluded  patio  as  everywhere  in  the  Albaicin,  and 
on  the  Alhambra  hill)  abruptly  ceased,  after  a  distant  ringing 
which  I  took  to  be  that  of  the  bell  in  the  Torre  de  la  Vela,  regu- 
lating the  irrigation  of  all  the  country  round.  At  this  same  mo- 
ment the  diamond  plumes  of  the  fountain  invariably  fell,  and 
disappeared,  not  to  wave  again  until  the  morning  sun  was  up. 

I  was  always  sorry  when  the  fountain  died,  for  it  was  the  sole 
companion  of  my  captivity,  my  one  dim  pleasure  watching  its 
nymph-like  play.  And  to-night  the  dead  silence  of  the  patio 
seemed  the  lull  before  my  own  death. 

It  must  have  been,  I  thought,  somewhere  about  ten  o'clock 
when  I  heard  a  new  sound  in  the  court,  slight,  elusive,  but  dis- 
tinct. Chink  —  chink  —  like  metal  on  stone,  as  if  a  troll  were 
mining  underground.  The  old  man  was  taking  time  by  the  fore- 
lock, I  said  grimly  to  myself,  getting  ready  a  place  in  some  cellar 
to  lay  me  away  when  I  should  be  finished.  I  should  last  some 
days  yet;  but  it  took  time  to  do  these  things  well.  At  the  hotel 
they  had  told  me  how  a  year  or  two  ago,  in  destroying  an  old 
house  in  the  Albaicin  to  build  a  new  one  on  the  sight,  workmen 
had  come  across  the  skeletons  of  two  French  grenadiers  neatly 
sealed  up  in  a  wall  of  stone,  where  they  had  kept  guard  since  the 
time  of  the  Peninsular  War.  Probably  a  night  or  two  had  been 
needed  for  the  making  of  their  niche. 

Chink  —  chink !  Yes,  the  old  wretch  must  be  at  work  in  a 
cellar.  The  noise  certainly  came  from  underground;  and  it  was 
not  as  agreeable  to  my  ears  as  the  tinkle  of  the  vanished  foun- 
tain. I  wished  the  hour  would  come  for  the  water  to  leap  up  and 
drown  that  other  stealthy  sound. 

Suddenly,  as  I  turned  a  wistful  gaze  on  the  alabaster  shell 


THE  FOUNTAIN  329 

dimly  glimmering  among  the  low  palms,  to  my  astonishment  it 
seemed  to  totter.  I  thought  that  it  must  be  a  mere  illusion  of 
weary  eyes,  or  that  the  effect  was  created  by  a  cloud  obscuring 
the  starlight.  But  again  the  white  shell  moved  against  the  dark 
green  background,  this  time  swaying  from  side  to  side. 

Could  there  be  an  earthquake,  so  slight  that  I  did  not  feel  the 
shock?  Even  as  I  asked  myself  the  question,  the  shell  of  the 
fountain  was  loosened  from  its  support,  and  fell  into  the  main 
basin,  now  almost  empty.  The  water-lilies  and  their  green  pads 
which  floated  sparsely  there  muffled  the  sound  of  the  crash,  but 
there  was  a  noise  of  breaking.  The  slabs  of  coloured  mosaic 
which  paved  the  lower  basin  upheaved,  as  if  the  earth  beneath 
were  bursting,  and  scattered  from  side  to  side,  falling  over  the 
crushed  lilies.  Then  though  a  ragged  black  aperture  rose  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  a  man. 

The  metallic  sound  had  stopped;  but  from  somewhere  in  the 
house  there  came  the  slamming  of  a  door. 

The  head  and  shoulders,  motionless  now,  were  sharply  de- 
fined against  the  scattered  heap  of  white  fragments,  like  the  bust 
of  a  man  modelled  in  black  marble.  Someone  whistled  softly, 
and  the  tune  was,  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me." 

*'  Dick ! "  I  called  through  the  close  wooden  lattice. 

"  Hurrah ! "  he  answered ;  and  the  black  marble  bust  became 
a  full  length  statue  of  a  man. 

How  he  had  found  me,  how  he  had  come,  I  did  not  know; 
but  there  he  was,  and  the  gate  of  life  had  not  closed  upon  me 
after  all.  Dick  was  out  of  the  jagged  hole  in  the  basin,  and  half 
across  the  patio,  when  a  door,  which  I  had  always  seen  shut, 
burst  open  to  let  out  a  stream  of  light,  and  the  figure  of  the  old 
man  I  knew  so  well,  leaped  on  him. 

I  was  weak,  and  for  a  moment  I  turned  sick,  the  patio  with  its 
broken  fountain,  and  the  forms  of  the  men  in  a  halo  of  yellow 
light,  whirling  before  my  eyes  as  if  there  were  indeed  an  earth- 
quake. Then  the  mist  cleared,  and  like  a  rat  in  a  cage  I  watched 
the  fight  which  meant  life  or  death  for  more  than  one  of  us. 


330  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

There  was  no  capucha  now  to  cover  the  grey-streaked  head 
and  venerable  beard.  Once  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  profile  sharp 
as  a  hawk's.  The  old  man  had  come  out  of  the  house  with  a 
Toledo  sword-stick,  such  as  the  King  and  his  friend  had  used 
with  the  brigands,  and  as  he  saw  the  enemy  he  had  to  deal  with, 
he  had  thrown  away  the  bamboo  stick.  The  long,  thin  blade 
glittered  in  the  same  light  that  showed  me  Dick,  armed  with  an 
iron  crowbar,  formidable  and  threatening. 

If  it  had  been  a  scene  in  a  play,  and  I  in  the  audience,  I  should 
have  applauded,  for  there  was  something  in  me  which  cried  out 
that  it  was  a  fine  picture.  But  Dick's  life  and  mine  were  in  the 
balance. 


XXXIX 

"  DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW  " 

THE  pair  stood  eyeing  each  other  like  two  fencers, 
Dick  with  the  crowbar  raised,  and  pointing  at  his 
heart  the  blade  which  would  pierce  it  when  the  Spaniard 
dared  advance  an  inch. 

I  longed  to  shout  "Fling  the  crowbar  at  his  head!"  But  if 
Dick's  eye  released  the  eye  of  his  opponent  he  was  a  dead  man,  I 
must  not  risk  distracting  him  for  the  fraction  of  a  second. 

It  seemed  an  hour,  though  it  could  not  have  been  a  minute 
when,  as  if  my  thought  had  winged  to  his  brain,  the  thick  iron 
bar  whirled  through  the  air,  and  struck  the  old  man  full  upon  the 
forehead.  The  Toledo  blade  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  he  fell 
back  without  a  cry,  his  head  inside  the  open  door. 

"Is  he  dead?"  I  called. 

Dick  bent  over  the  limp  body;  but,  after  a  long  moment,  he 
was  up  again,  waving  a  big,  old-fashioned  key. 

"  No, "  he  answered.  "  Heart  beating.  Bad  penny.  He'll  be  all 
right.  This  the  key  of  spider's  parlour  ?  " 

"I  think  so,"  I  said.  "Dick,  you're  just  in  time  to  keep  me 
from  giving  in.  I'm  starved. " 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  the  crowbar. 

"  Old  brute !  I've  a  mind  to  finish  him ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  don't  mean  that, "  I  said.  "  But  look  for  something  to 
tie  him  up  with.  He  may  come  to  himself  before  we're  off.  " 

"  I  guess  I'll  just  tote  him  along  with  me, "  said  Dick.  "  Safe 
bind,  safe  find." 

Gathering  up  the  long  body  as  if  it  had  been  the  form  of  a 

331 


332  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

sleeping  child,  Dick  disappeared  into  the  house.  I  knew  that  he 
was  looking  for  the  door  of  my  cage,  and  presently  —  for  the 
first  time  with  pleasure  —  I  heard  the  slipping  back  of  the  bolt 
and  turning  of  the  key. 

Already  I  was  at  the  door,  opening  it  for  Dick  to  come  in  with 
his  heavy  burden. 

"  Here's  the  bed, "  I  said,  and  Dick  laid  his  burden  down,  not 
too  gently.  Then  I  think  the  next  thing  we  did  was  to  shake 
hands. 

"Blessed  old  man!"  exclaimed  Dick,  a  little  unsteadily. 
*'What  a  beastly  business." 

"  It's  a  mystery, "  I  said.  "  And  how  you  got  to  me  —  " 

"  Conduit, "  said  Dick,  "  But  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that,  and 
everything.  Got  no  electric  light  here  ? " 

"Nothing  but  starlight.  For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  about 
Monica!" 

"She's  all  right,"  said  Dick.  "Not  a  Duchess  yet,  if  that's 
what  worries  you.  Look  here,  if  this  place  has  been  good  enough 
to  box  you  up  in  all  this  time,  it's  good  enough  to  keep  him  in  —  " 
(He  nodded  towards  the  alcove.)  "  He  lives  alone  here,  without 
servants;  I've  found  out  all  that,  with  a  lot  more;  and  his  master 
—  guess  you  know  who  —  is  in  Madrid;  so  when  this  chap  comes 
to  himself  he  can  try  how  he  likes  your  quarters.  They  seem 
rather  nice  ones,  judging  from  what  I  can  see;  but  Carmona 
always  does  himself  well. " 

"Is  this  Cannona's  house?"  I  asked. 

"  You  bet  it  is.  Little  private  sort  of  place  he  keeps  ready  when 
he  wants  to  amuse  himself  in  some  way  which  his  mother  and 
Monica  and  other  people  mightn't  approve  of  in  Dukes.  This  old 
Johnny's  a  combination  of  caretaker  and  physician  in  ordinary  to 
his  grace.  But  let's  get  out  of  this.  I  can't  give  you  a  marble  bath 
or  Moorish  decorations  at  my  hotel,  but  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
you'd  prefer  the  accommodation;  and  after  that  conduit  business 
I  need  a '  wash  and  brush  up '  as  much  as  you  do.  Why,  old  man, 
what's  the  matter  ?  Not  going  to  crack  up,  are  you  ?  " 


"DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW"  333 

"I'm  all  right,"  I  said;  "but  I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat 
since  the  day  after  I  saw  you  off,  except  milk,  and  none  of  that 
for  the  last  two  days. " 

"  Great  Scott !  you're  joking.  We  parted  five  weeks  ago ! " 

The  words  gave  me  a  shock  in  spite  of  the  stubble  on  my  chin 
and  the  whiteness  of  my  hands.  Dick  had  his  wet  arm  round  my 
shoulders,  and  we  were  at  the  door,  which  he  was  about  to  lock, 
and  I  startled  him  by  caving  in  a  little  at  the  knees. 

"  See  here, "  he  said,  hanging  on  to  my  arm  as  if  he  were  afraid 
I  should  vanish  in  thin  air,  "  we  won't  wait  to  dine  at  my  hotel. 
We'll  nose  round  a  bit  in  this  old  Johnny's  larder.  You  must 
be  bucked  up  before  you  go  out  into  the  street.  Oh,  it's  safe 
enough.  The  old  brute's  a  hermit  —  for  his  own  reasons  or  Car- 
mona's.  Nobody  comes  near  the  house,  and  we  can  take  our 
own  time.  While  you're  eating  you  shall  hear  everything  I've 
got  to  tell." 

He  locked  and  bolted  the  door,  and  helped  me  down  the 
stairs,  up  which  I  must  have  been  carried  unconscious;  perhaps 
by  the  gypsy,  assisted  by  the  master  of  the  house. 

Below  stairs  the  place  was  dark  save  for  the  light  which  had 
streamed  out  into  the  patio  with  the  opening  door.  It  came  from 
a  good-sized  room  evidently  intended  for  a  kitchen,  but  also 
used  by  the  solitary  tenant  as  a  dining-room.  It  had  a  window 
opening  on  the  court;  this,  however,  was  not  only  covered  with 
heavy  shutters,  but  protected  by  a  curtain  as  well,  and  ventila- 
tion came  through  an  adjoining  room  from  a  window  that  looked 
on  another  small  court. 

Evidently  my  gaoler  had  been  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  his 
supper,  and  hearing  a  noise  in  the  patio  had  stopped  only  long 
enough  to  snatch  up  a  sword-stick.  On  the  table  was  a  simple 
meal  of  cold  meat,  salad,  goats'-milk  cheese,  and  fresh  fruit; 
but  to  my  starved  eyes  it  seemed  a  feast.  There  was  also  a  bottle 
half -full  of  red  Spanish  wine;  and  I  did  not  wait  for  Dick's 
suggestion  to  sit  down.  I  must  get  back  my  strength  if  I  were 
to  be  of  any  use  to  Monica  or  myself,  and  I  hardly  listened  to 


334  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Dick's  warning  that  a  starved  man  must  not  satisfy  his  first 
hunger. 

"  Eat  slowly,  and  not  too  much, "  he  said,  with  anxious  eyes 
on  my  face,  which  must  have  been  frightful,  though  he  was  too 
tactful  to  make  comments.  As  I  obeyed,  he  told  me  his  story, 
briefly  and  disjointedly,  as  the  points  came  back  to  him. 

"Didn't  hear  from  you,"  he  said,  "and  began  wondering 
what  was  up.  Wired  twice;  no  answer;  was'  a  bit  taken  up  with 
my  own  affairs  just  then,  I'm  afraid.  Yes,  I  mean  Pilar.  After 
five  days,  wired  the  landlord.  He  answered  you'd  left  with  a 
friend.  I  thought  that  queer,  and  set  out  for  Granada  by  next 
train,  Ropes  with  me.  At  the  Washington  Irving  I  found  both  my 
telegrams  to  you  and  a  letter.  Landlord  said  he  got  a  note  from 
you,  dated  Motril,  telling  him  you'd  met  a  friend  and  gone  off 
unexpectedly  in  his  automobile.  You  enclosed  more  than  enough 
money  to  pay  bill  and  tips,  and  asked  him  to  have  your  luggage 
packed  and  kept  till  your  return,  which  might  be  in  a  few  days  or 
not  for  some  time.  Naturally,  he  hadn't  worried;  and  as  he'd 
destroyed  the  letter,  I  couldn't  tell  if  it  was  your  handwriting. 

"  Well,  I  thought  you  might  have  rushed  off  suddenly  on  ac- 
count of  some  lark  of  Carmona's;  but  I  soon  found  out  he  was 
still  in  Granada,  slowly  getting  better;  and  the  guests  hadn't 
gone.  By  the  way,  I  called,  but  nobody  in  the  house  was  seeing 
visitors.  Ropes  discovered  that  your  car  was  in  a  stable  down  in 
the  town,  where  you'd  left  it,  without  saying  for  how  long.  He 
and  I  were  getting  scared,  and  I  went  to  the  police,  but  didn't 
dare  give  your  real  name  .without  your  permission,  especially 
as  the  authorities  had  a  kind  of  prejudice  against  it.  Fired  off 
my  best  Spanish,  though,  and  insinuated  that  Carmona  wasn't 
very  fond  of  you;  but  when  I  began  hinting  that  it  might  be 
convenient  for  his  plans  that  you  should  disappear,  they  wouldn't 
take  me  seriously,  were  polite,  and  all  that,  promised  to  look 
you  up,  as  if  you  were  a  stray  kitten,  but  intimated  that  most 
people  who  vanished  had  private  reasons  for  doing  so. 

"After  that,  I  didn't  expect  them  to  find  out  anything,  and 


"DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW"  335 

they  did  their  best  not  to  disappoint  me.  I  saw  that  if  anybody 
was  going  to  do  the  Sherlock  Holmes'  act,  it  must  be  Ropes  and 
me.  We  sat  tight  at  the  Washington  Irving,  and  looked  around; 
but  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  no  one  was  any  wiser  than  at  the 
beginning.  Then  what  should  happen  but  the  dear  old  Colonel 
and  Filar  popped  down  to  see  if  they  could  help.  Oh,  and  I  for- 
got to  tell  you  that  meanwhile  the  people  at  Carmona's  palace 
had  cleared  out.  They'd  gone  back  to  Seville  again  by  train ; 
and  what  should  happen  but  the  Colonel  and  Filar  met  Cannon  a 
face  to  face  in  the  station. " 

"Not  Monica?"  I  broke  in. 

"No.  I  suppose  the  others  had  got  into  a  carriage;  he  was 
lingering  behind  to  give  a  valet  directions  about  luggage.  And 
then  there  was  a  scene.  Filar  told  me  all  about  it.  Carmona 
bowed ;  and  before  the  Cherub  could  pull  the  little  girl  away,  as 
he  tried,  seeing  danger  in  her  eye,  she  gave  the  Duke  a  piece  of 
her  mind.  Said  he  was  a  villain,  or  some  kind  words  of  that  sort. 
He  retorted  by  saying  to  her  father  that  he  could  make  a  lot  of 
trouble  for  Cristobal  if  they  didn't  take  care.  Filar  said  they 
could  accuse  him  of  worse  things  than  he  could  them ;  and  some- 
how or  other,  in  an  evil  moment,  the  subject  of  Corcito,  a  grey 
bull  Carmona  was  once  nasty  about,  came  up.  Then,  before  she 
knew  what  she  was  doing,  Filar  flashed  out  the  name  of  Vivillo, 
the  beast  she  wanted  to  buy,  you  know.  And  from  that  minute 
the  fat  was  in  the  fire  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  But  about 
that  later.  What  with  you  and  the  bull,  she  was  in  a  dreadful 
state  of  mind  when  she  got  here,  poor  child.  However,  she  put 
on  her  thinking  cap,  and  said  she, '  Try  the  gypsies.  See  if  they 
don't  know  something.' 

"  That  was  enough  for  me.  I  took  a  sudden  fancy  to  Captain 
Pepe,  the  chief  of  the  gypsies,  and  went  every  night  to  see  a  dance 
in  his  cave.  But  I  soon  saw  he  was  straight;  and  they  weren't  a 
bad  lot  of  people  in  the  colony.  The  nasty  ones  he  kicked  out, 
and  they  had  to  hustle  for  themselves.  Captain  Pepe  told  me 
about  one  fellow,  Juan  Castello,  who'd  got  himself  disliked, 


336  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

though  he  was  a  nailer  with  the  guitar;  and  when  he  said  the 
chap  had  a  sister  who  had  a  fine  position  in  the  house  of  a  titled 
person,  because  she  was  the  best  seamstress  in  the  country,  J 
pricked  up  my  ears.  You  can  bet,  after  I'd  heard  the  titled  person 
was  Carmona,  I  turned  my  attention  to  Mr.  Castello,  dropped 
in  on  him  one  day,  named  a  big  price,  and  asked  him  to  give  me 
lessons  on  the  guitar.  He  didn't  mind  if  he  did,  and  we  got  quite 
friendly.  I  spent  several  evenings  in  his  cave,  where  one  night 
I  heard  a  dog  howling,  as  if  it  was  mighty  sick,  behind  a  red 
curtain. " 

"That  red  curtain!"  I  exclaimed.  "I  shouldn't  be  where  I 
am  now,  or  have  a  scar  on  the  back  of  my  head,  if  I'd  looked 
behind  it." 

"By  Jove!  Well,  I  got  some  idea  of  that  sort.  Castello  said 
the  dog  belonged  to  a  gentleman  in  Granada,  who  lived  all  alone 
in  the  Albaicin,  and  kept  this  beast  as  a  watch-dog;  but  he  was 
afraid  it  was  going  mad,  and  told  Castello  to  shoot  it.  However, 
it  was  a  valuable  animal,  and  Castello  was  undertaking  to  cure 
it  for  his  own  benefit.  Already  it  was  better,  and  the  owner 
talked  of  buying  it  back  if  it  recovered.  The  old  gentleman  was 
coming  up  to  see  the  dog  that  very  evening,  perhaps,  Castello 
said ;  and  being  evidently  proud  of  a  respectable  acquaintance, 
he  went  on  talking  about  him,  I  encouraging  him  all  I  could, 
because  any  friend  of  his  might  prove  interesting  to  me. 

"The  minute  I  heard  the  chap  was  a  kind  of  herb  doctor, 
and  sometimes  treated  grand  people,  I  nearly  jumped  off  my 
seat;  for  you  know  why  Carmona  was  supposed  to  come  to 
Granada  ?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  Well,  Castello  was  in  with  this  doctor  in  a  way,  for  he  was  en- 
gaged by  him  to  fetch  herbs  and  flowers  from  the  mountains  — 
like  the  Manzanilla,  for  instance,  which  only  begins  to  grow  at  an 
elevation  of  twelve  thousand  feet.  Castello  believed  that  the  old 
fellow  could  make  poisons  too,  as  well  as  antidotes ;  and  said  I 
to  myself,  'Maybe  that  little  dagger  in  the  cathedral  was 


"DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW"  337 

specially  prepared,  eh?'  Which  would  account  for  Cannona 
hurrying  off  to  Granada  after  it  had  found  the  wrong  billet. 

"  Anyhow,  I  said  I'd  like  to  see  the  dog,  so  I  was  taken  behind 
the  red  curtain  into  Mr.  Castello's  bedroom,  and  on  a  shelf  lay  a 
revolver  which  might  have  been  twin  to  the  one  you  bought  in 
Madrid." 

"  It  was  still  more  nearly  related, "  said  I. 

"Well,  I  thought  so,  but  wasn't  sure  enough  to  call  on  the 
police.  I  went  away  when  I'd  said  nice  things  about  the  sick  dog; 
but  I  didn't  go  far.  I  hung  around  till  Castello's  visitor  had  been 
and  gone,  and  then  followed  him  to  the  door  of  this  house.  Such 
a  mild,  intelligent  looking,  well-dressed  old  gentleman,  the  herb 
doctor  was;  but  I  guess  I  needn't  describe  him  to  you ! 

"  Next  day  I  bought  some  things  at  a  baker's  not  far  from  here, 
and  buttered  up  the  shopkeeper,  saying  his  store  was  too  good 
for  the  neighbourhood.  Of  course  he  told  me  he  had  rich  cus- 
tomers, and  it  was  jolly  lucky  I'd  been  fagging  up  Spanish  for 
Pilar's  sake,  or  I  should  have  missed  a  lot,  right  there.  I  soon 
got  him  on  the  subject  of  the  herb  doctor,  his  best  client,  who, 
though  supposed  to  be  well-off,  and  living  in  a  good  house,  did  all 
his  shopping  himself  and  kept  no  servants.  Nobody  knew  much 
about  him,  except  what  he  said  of  himself;  that  he  could  set 
bones,  and  was  able  to  make  as  much  money  as  he  liked,  selling 
his  herb  medicines  to  great  personages.  Who  were  the  great 
personages?  The  baker  couldn't  tell;  but  the  doctor  had  lived 
in  his  present  house  for  years,  after  taking  it  when  in  a  bad  state 
of  repair,  and  having  it  done  up  inside  by  workmen  he  brought 
from  Madrid.  From  that  day  on,  no  one  the  baker  knew  had  ever 
been  invited  in,  though  he'd  heard  stories  of  veiled  ladies,  and 
sounds  of  music  at  night. 

"  At  that,  the  thought  jumped  into  my  mind  that  maybe  the 
house  was  Carmona's,  a  little  secret  plaything  of  his.  And  I 
remembered  reading  about  a  famous  old  palace  in  the  Albaicin 
with  an  underground  way  to  the  Alhambra.  Why  shouldn't 
there  be  such  a  way  from  Carmona's  palace  to  the  doctor's 


338  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

house?  And  what  a  convenient  place  it  would  be  to  keep  a 
troublesome  person." 

"  Or  to  kill  one, "  I  amended. 

"  I  thought  of  that;  but  I  hoped.  People  don't  commit  murder 
when  their  blood  is  cool  if  they  can  get  what  they  want  cheaper. 
I  went  again  to  the  police,  said  I  believed  that  my  friend  was 
detained  against  his  will  in  the  house  of  Doctor  Molina.  But 
when  they  wanted  my  reasons  I  couldn't  give  any  to  convince 
them.  They  thought  I  was  mad,  and  refused  to  search.  I  was 
afraid  they'd  warn  the  old  chap  to  look  out  for  a  crazy  American, 
so  I  hurried  up  and  took  matters  into  my  own  hands. 

*'  I  wasn't  sure  enough  of  anything  to  jump  on  the  man  out- 
side his  own  door  and  do  the  burglar  act  openly,  lest  the  police 
should  jump  on  me,  and  I  should  be  laid  by  before  I'd  found  you. 
But  about  that  time  I  began  to  have  water  on  the  brain; 
or  rather,  I  got  possessed  with  the  idea  of  sneaking  into 
houses  by  means  of  conduits;  and  no  wonder,  when  the  whole 
Albaicin  is  honeycombed  with  watercourses,  gluddering  and 
gurgling  from  morning  till  night. 

"  In  the  next  street  to  this,  there's  a  Moorish  house  of  much 
the  same  sort,  being  torn  down.  They  were  selling  old  tiles  to 
curiosity  dealers  one  day,  so  I  strolled  into  the  patio.  The  pave- 
ment was  up,  and  I  saw  how  the  conduit  ran  'underneath  and 
supplied  the  fountain.  That  was  instructive.  Opposite  this  place 
of  Molina's  is  a  mill.  I  found  out  how  the  miller  got  his  water, 
and  that  after  it  turned  his  wheel,  it  poured  in  this  direction,  be- 
ing turned  off  every  night  about  nine.  At  the  miller's  the  conduit 
is  open,  only  guarded  by  a  rail;  and  I  developed  a  taste  for  mak- 
ing sketches  and  taking  photographs  —  tourist  in  search  of  the 
picturesque;  miller  got  used  to  seeing  me  about,  while  I  made 
myself  familiar  with  the  landscape.  Then  I  bought  a  crowbar  and 
a  little  electric  lamp.  The  bar  I  hid  under  my  coat;  and  when  I 
was  ready  to  shed  the  garment,  Ropes  put  it  on.  I  guess  it  was  a 
looser  fit  for  him  than  that  conduit  was  for  me,  and  there  were 
twelve  feet  of  conduit;  good  long  strait- jacket,  but  I've  been  in  it 


"DAY  AFTER  TO-MORROW"  339 

a  lot  of  times  now,  and  feel  quite  at  home.  You  see,  the  job 
couldn't  be  done  in  one  go,  for  I  had  to  make  the  hole  under  the 
fountain  bigger,  and  I've  been  tinkering  away  for  nearly  a  week, 
o'  nights  when  the  water  was  stopped.  And  if  I'd  come  up  at  last, 
like  a  demon  in  a  pantomime,  to  find  I'd  had  my  trouble  for  my 
pains,  I  can't  say  what  I  should  have  turned  my  wits  to  next." 

"Does  Pilar  know?"  I  asked. 

"  She  and  the  Colonel  went  off  in  a  hurry  to  Madrid  just  be- 
fore I  took  the  job  on.  They  thought  they  could  influence  the  po- 
lice at  headquarters,  which  was  their  principal  reason  for  going; 
though  they  had  one  or  two  others  besides.  But  see  here,  you've 
got  the  story  pat  now,  and  you're  looking  a  thousand  per  cent 
more  healthy  than  when  you  sat  down  at  this  table  ten  minutes 
ago.  Poor  old  Ropes,  who  always  hangs  about  keeping  guard, 
will  be  mighty  glad  to  see  you ;  but  before  we  open  the  door  and 
walk  out  as  if  we  owned  the  house,  let's  have  a  look  round.  There 
may  be  something  which  will  give  me  a  chance  to  say  'I  told  you 
so ! '  to  the  police. " 

Refreshed  with  wine,  and  such  scanty  rations  as  Dick  had 
allowed,  I  walked  steadily  enough  into  the  adjoining  room, 
while  Dick  carried  a  lamp.  There  were  no  such  gorgeous  decora- 
tions here,  as  in  the  suite  I  had  reluctantly  occupied.  A  modern 
bed  stood  in  one  corner.  There  were  shelves  on  the  wall,  fitted 
with  glass  doors  which  protected  jars  and  bottles.  On  a  large 
table  lay  an  outfit  for  chemical  experiments,  and  on  another 
some  yellow  flowers  half  buried  in  green  leaves.  In  the  window 
was  a  modern  desk,  and  Dick  at  once  began  to  rummage  among 
the  few  papers  in  the  pigeon-holes.  There  was  nothing,  how- 
ever, which  seemed  to  bear  upon  our  affairs,  with  the  exception 
of  a  telegraph  form,  which  I  seized  upon.  It  was  dated  June  first, 
and  had  been  sent  from  a  Madrid  office.  There  was  no  signature, 
but  there  was  a  hint  of  something  secret  in  the  three  words  it 
contained.  "  Day  after  to-morrow. " 

Dick  and  I  stared  at  the  paper,  as  if  we  expected  the  meaning 
of  the  message  to  spring  up  to  our  eyes. 


340  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"My  name's  not  Richard  D.  Waring  if  Carmona's  signature 
oughtn't  to  be  tacked  on  to  that, "  he  said.  "  Now,  we've  some- 
thing to  go  upon,  for  a  beginning.  This  telegram  will  be  traced 
to  the  sender  before  I'm  many  hours  older;  we  can  trust  our  dear 
old  Cherub  for  that. " 

"  Day  after  to-morrow, "  I  repeated.  "  What's  going  to  happen 
day  after  to-morrow,  that  Carmona  should  have  wired  to  this 
man  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  it  was  his  way  of  letting  Molina  know  that  the 
cage  door  could  open." 

"  But  why  day  after  to-morrow  ?  He  —  "I  broke  off  suddenly, 
and  it  seemed  that  my  heart  would  stop  beating.  "Dick,"  I 
began  again,  in  a  queer  voice  that  did  not  sound  like  my  own, 
"  is  Monica  —  "I  could  not  finish  the  sentence.  But  Dick  under- 
stood. 

"  Forgive  me, "  he  said.  "  I  saw  you  weren't  strong  enough  to 
bear  it  at  first.  I  wanted  you  to  eat,  and  then  —  I'd  have  kept 
it  back  a  bit  longer  if  I  could,  just  till  I  got  you  to  the  hotel. 
She's  going  to  marry  him  —  on  the  third  of  June,  Heaven  knows 
why,  though  Pilar  vows  the  girl  can't  be  to  blame,  and  that 
they've  made  her  believe  somehow  she's  sacrificing  herself  for 
your  sake. " 

"  What  day  is  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  first.  The  Royal  Wedding  was  yesterday,  and  a  terrible 
bomb  explosion,  in  which  the  King  and  Queen  had  a  narrow 
escape,  and  —  but  come,  Ramon,  I  want  to  get  you  to  the  hotel.  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  the  hotel, "  I  said.  "  I'm  going  to  Madrid, 
to  stop  Carmona's  marriage.  " 


XL 
THROUGH  THE  NIGHT 

DICK  looked  at  me  with  indulgent  sympathy,  as  if  I 
were  a  child. 
"It's  after  eleven  o'clock  at  night,"  he  said.  "The 
train  for  Madrid  went  two  hours  ago,  and  — " 

"  Did  you  say  Ropes  was  waiting  for  you  outside  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  And  my  car's  still  in  the  garage  where  I  put  it  ?  " 

"Yes;  but  you're  not  in  a  fit  state  for  a  journey.  If  you  could 
see  yourself  —  " 

"Oh,  I  know  I'm  a  nightmare  apparition,"  I  cut  in;  "but 
when  I'm  shaved  and  —  " 

"The  trip  would  kill  you." 

"  It  would  kill  me  not  to  take  it" 

We  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment,  then  Dick  said  — 

"  All  right.  Come  on.  I  know  what  you  feel.  But  what  about 
that  old  reprobate  upstairs  ?  " 

"  I'll  wait  for  you  here  while  you  take  up  some  food  and  leave 
it  in  the  room.  We  can't  waste  time  in  Granada  on  his  account. 
I'll  tell  my  story,  and  you  can  tell  yours  to  the  police  in  Madrid, 
after  I  —  after  I've  done  what  I'm  going  there  to  do." 

"  How  long  a  drive  is  it  ?  "  Dick  asked  resignedly.  ; 

"  It's  about  two  hundred  and  seventy  miles.  If  we  can  start  by 
one  or  two,  bar  accidents  we  ought  to  be  in  Madrid  by  noon." 

"The  royal  bull-fight's  to-morrow,"  answered  Dick.  "Al- 
though the  wedding's  next  day,  and  the  invitations  have 
been  out  a  fortnight,  Carmona  and  Lady  Monica  are  bound 

341 


342  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

to  be  there,  as  it's  a  royal  invitation  show;  that  means  a 
command." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I.  "  Since  it  may  be  as  difficult  to  reach  her 
in  Madrid  as  in  Seville  and  Granada,  I  shall  wait  outside  the 
entrance  to  the  bull-ring,  and  as  she's  about  to  go  in,  she 
shall  see  me  and  hear  the  whole  truth.  Don't  look  as  if  you 
thought  it  would  do  no  good,  Dick;  if  she's  promised  to  marry 
Carmona  in  spite  of  all,  it's  because  he  has  made  her  think  he  can 
ruin  me  if  she  refuses.  Pilar's  instinct  is  right,  I  know;  and  now 
for  the  first  time  I  understand  why  Carmona  didn't  denounce 
me  to  the  police  as  Casa  Triana,  when  Monica  refused  to  keep 
her  engagement  with  him,  as  I'm  sure  she  did.  No  doubt  he  told 
her  lies  —  that  I  could  be  imprisoned  —  for  years,  perhaps.  And 
his  wounded  hand — what  an  opportunity  for  him!  Ah!  he 
wouldn't  waste  it.  He'd  make  her  believe  I  stabbed  him  in  the 
cathedral  that  night.  How  plausible !  And  as  he's  been  very  ill, 
can't  you  imagine  what  her  fears  for  me  must  have  been  ?  Dick,  I 
regard  her  coming  marriage  as  a  proof  of  love,  not  of  indiffer- 
ence." 

"  I'm  ready  to  agree  with  you,"  said  Dick.  "  But  you're  risking 
your  life  to  prove  it." 

"Nonsense,"  I  answered.  "The  thought  that  I'm  free,  that 
I'm  going  to  her,  and  that  at  last  I  have  Carmona  in  my  hand, 
will  give  me  strength  enough  to  get  through." 

Dick  raised  his  eyebrows,  but  did  not  answer.  He  was  collect- 
ing bread  and  meat  on  a  plate,  to  leave  for  the  man  upstairs. 

Five  minutes  later  we  were  out  of  the  house  and  in  the  street. 
In  front  of  the  miller's  premises  Ropes  was  walking  up  and  down. 
He  did  not  say  much  when  he  saw  that  Dick  had  a  companion ; 
but  as  he  wrung  the  hand  I  held  out  to  him,  I  heard  him  breath- 
ing hard,  and  he  swore  under  his  breath  when  he  saw  my  face 
by  the  light  of  a  street  lamp. 

It  was  the  look  on  his  which  made  me  realize,  as  Dick's  per- 
suasions had  not,  that  I  must  delay  long  enough  to  be  made  again 
into  some  semblance  of  a  sane  man.  An  hour  more  before  getting 


Mfl 

on  the  road  would  not  endanger  success,  though  it  would  try 
my  patience.  A  quarter  of  a  mile's  walk  to  the  garage  was  a 
sharper  test  of  my  strength  than  I  would  confess;  but  when 
Ropes  had  roused  the  watchman,  filled  the  good  old  Gloria  with 
petrol,  and  started  her  up  the  hill,  the  rush  of  pure  night  air  gave 
me  life. 

At  the  hotel,  we  walked  in  without  waking  the  dozing  con- 
cierge. Dick  made  me  free  of  his  things;  and  when,  between  us, 
we  had  finished  my  toilet,  he  admitted  that  I  was  not  as  appall- 
ing an  object  as  he  had  thought.  He  changed  his  wet  clothes,  left 
a  note  for  the  landlord,  and  it  was  not  yet  two  o'clock  when  we 
started,  Ropes  driving,  Dick  with  mein  the  tonneau. 

"To  Madrid,  top  speed,  quickest  way,"  was  the  word;  and  I 
hoped  for  a  non-stop  run,  or  as  near  it  as  possible. 

The  quickest  way  was  by  Jaen,  a  road  which  none  of  us  knew, 
and  the  starlit  sky  was  obscured  by  dark  clouds  which  heralded 
a  summer  thunder-storm.  As  Ropes  steered  across  the  Vega 
towards  that  gap  in  the  mountains  which  is  the  door  of  the  north, 
there  came  a  waterspout  of  rain  on  the  roof.  Thunder  drowned 
the  purr  of  the  motor,  and  a  flash  of  lightning  every  other  moment 
dimmed  the  flying  circle  of  our  acetylenes.  There  had  been  rain 
more  than  once  of  late,  and  this  deluge  made  the  road,  already 
bad,  soft  and  greasy  as  an  outworn  sponge.  The  Gloria  waltzed 
and  slipped  in  a  mass  of  brown  porridge,  but  Ropes  knew  that 
we  were  to  drive  against  time,  and,  throwing  caution  to  the  wind, 
tore  through  the  treacherous  mud  as  if  to  win  the  cup  in  a  great 
race. 

We  flung  Granada  behind  us,  dashing  in  among  the  foothills 
of  the  mountains,  mounting  a  slippery  defile,  with  the  rain  like 
whips  lashing  our  faces.  Orchards  flashed  by;  there  was  a  rock 
tunnel,  where  the  lights  shone  fiercely  on  rough-hewn  stone,  and 
the  thrum  of  the  motor  became  a  roar. 

Out  again,  and  still  up,  the  beams  from  our  lamps  shooting 
across  vineyards,  plantations  of  figs  and  pomegranates,  and 
striking  silver  from  the  curves  of  the  Guadalbullon  River.  A 


344  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

glimpse  of  an  old  castle  commanding  a  dark  gorge,  and  we  were 
at  Jaen;  then,  presently,  the  road  became  familiar,  for  we  had 
travelled  it  before.  At  this  very  corner  we  had  stopped  to  ask  the 
way  of  men  who  carried  strange  implements  like  fire-extinguish- 
ers, for  this  was  Bailen;  but  now,  instead  of  receiving  our  first 
glimpse  of  Andalucia,  we  were  leaving  it  behind. 

Eighty  miles  out  of  two  hundred  and  seventy  we  had  come, 
though  the  pace  had  not  been  good.  Still  the  rain  was  ceasing, 
and  we  could  make  up  for  lost  time,  as  country  traffic  had  not 
begun  yet. 

La  Carolina,  Santa  Elena ;  the  road  was  mounting  for  the  well- 
remembered  defile  of  Despenaperros.  Hoot!  went  the  siren, 
screaming  along  the  face  of  tremendous  cliffs,  and  a  louder 
shriek  rang  as  if  an  echo.  A  line  of  fire  down  in  the  gorge 
meant  the  train  from  Madrid  to  Seville.  It  glittered  like  a  string 
of  stars  drawn  across  a  spider's-web  viaduct,  then  vanished  into 
a  tunnel,  while  we  swept  on  towards  the  plains  of  La  Mancha, 
Ropes  crouched  like  a  goblin  over  his  wheel. 

Rain  again,  blurring  villages,  and  sweeping  through  tne  stone 
streets  of  a  town :  fields  once  more,  and  at  last  Manzanares.  There 
Dick  insisted  that  we  should  stop  for  food,  lest  strength  fail  me 
when  I  should  need  it  most;  but  I  could  not  bear  to  go  back  to  the 
fonda  I  knew,  to  see  the  pretty  girls  there  look  at  my  pale  face 
with  shocked  eyes,  perhaps  to  have  them  question  me  about  the 
"white  and  gold  angel." 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  we  got  away  from  the  cafe,  where 
we  had  spent  some  twenty  minutes ;  and  the  road  was  no  longer 
dear.  We  were  obliged  to  moderate  our  speed,  and  lost  more 
time  than  we  could  afford  getting  on  to  Aranjuez. 

"  Do  your  best  now,  Ropes,"  I  was  saying,  when  the  Gloria  — 
for  once  perverse  —  burst  a  tyre  with  a  loud  explosion.  Ropes 
threw  me  a  rueful  look. 

"  I'd  hoped  to  get  through  without  trouble,  sir,"  he  said,  "  but 
the  car's  lain  up  for  more  than  five  weeks,  and  there  was  no  time 
last  night  to  look  her  over." 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  345 

"You've  done  splendidly,"  I  assured  him.  "Til  get  out  with 
Mr.  Waring  and  stretch  my  legs." 

I  was  glad  to  walk,  and  still  more  glad  to  feel  that  instead  of 
being  exhausted  as  Dick  had  prophesied,  strength  seemed  com- 
ing back.  As  we  strolled  up  and  down,  so  sure  was  I  of  Dick's 
sympathy  that  I  began  to  talk  about  my  hopes  and  fears.  He  did 
not  disappoint  me,  but  once  or  twice  he  answered  absent-mind- 
edly, with  a  far-off  look  in  his  eyes,  and  suddenly,  with  a  pang 
of  remorse,  I  remembered  that  I  had  not  once  referred  to  the 
progress  of  his  love  affairs.  My  own  had  preoccupied  me  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  outside,  and  I  had  spoken  of  Pilar's  only 
in  connection  with  Monica. 

Anathematizing  myself  aloud  as  an  ungrateful  and  ungracious 
brute,  I  asked  if  Pilar  had  made  up  her  mind. 

"You  needn't  blame  yourself,"  he  said.  "All  this  time  she's 
kept  me  on  tenter-hooks,  because,  though  she  admitted  liking 
me,  she  couldn't  reconcile  her  heart  with  her  conscience.  I  got 
the  dear  old  Cherub's  blessing,  and  flaunted  it  in  her  face;  but 
that  wasn't  enough.  I  also  argued  that  it  was  her  duty  to  marry 
me  and  try  to  make  me  as  good  as  herself,  but  she  seemed  to 
think  it  might  work  out  the  other  way.  Then  you  disappeared, 
and  the  last  word  she  said  was  that  if  I  found  you,  she'd  take  it  as 
a  sign  that  San  Cristobal  wanted  the  match;  seems  he's  a  match- 
making saint,  when  he's  in  Spain,  as  well  as  a  motoring  one.  So, 
you  see,  she'll  have  to  keep  her  promise  now;  and  I'll  owe  my 
happiness  to  you." 

"  I  haven't  come  back  to  life  in  vain,  then,"  I  said.  "  It  will  be 
a  good  moment  for  me,  whatever  happens,  when  I  see  my  little 
sister  Pilar  again." 

"She'll  be  at  the  royal  bull-fight,"  Dick  sighed. 

"  I  thought  she  hated  bull-fights  —  for  Vivillo's  sake." 

"  It's  for  Vivillo's  sake  she's  going.  She's  moved  heaven  and 
earth  to  get  invitations." 

"And  she's  succeeded." 

"  Thereby  hangs  a  tale.  But  I'm  not  going  to  bother  you  with  it.'* 


346  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

I  insisted,  urging  him  the  more  to  atone  for  past  carelessness. 

"Well,  then,"  he  said  with  another  sigh,  "Vivillo's  fifth  bull 
in  the  royal  fight  to-day." 

I  was  shocked,  knowing  how  Pilar  loved  the  noble  brown 
beast,  and  how  she  had  counted  on  possessing  him.  But,  if  I  had 
had  my  wits  about  me,  I  might  have  guessed  last  night  how 
matters  stood.  Dick  had  told  me  then  that,  in  the  impromptu 
scene  between  Cannona  and  the  O'Donnels,  with  Seville  railway 
station  for  the  stage,  "the  name  of  Vivillo  had  unfortunately 
come  up."  Now,  Dick  explained  that  Cannona  had  caught  at 
the  girl's  hasty  words,  had  written  his  agent  at  the  ganaderia 
instructing  him  not  to  part  with  the  bull  at  any  price,  no  matter 
how  far  negotiations  had  gone  with  Colonel  O'Donnel.  A  day 
or  two  later  the  agent  was  directed  by  telegram  to  send  Vivillo 
immediately  to  Madrid,  as  the  Duke  had  offered  him  as  a  gift 
for  the  great  show  of  the  royal  bull-fight.  This  news  had  come 
to  Pilar  at  Granada  in  an  ill-spelled,  but  well-meaning  letter 
from  Mateo,  the  ganadero. 

"  It  was  sheer  spite,"  went  on  Dick,  *'  and  Pilar  was  broken- 
hearted. If  she  hadn't  blurted  out  Vivillo's  name  in  a  temper,  the 
bull  might  have  been  safe.  Cannona  wouldn't  have  interested 
himself,  as  he  trusts  his  agent  in  all  business  matters.  It's  true 
several  of  the  grandee  owners  of  bull-farms  have  been  asked  to 
gave  each  a  picked  bull  for  the  royal  fight,  which  is  expected  to 
be  the  grandest  affair  of  the  generation;  but  Cannona  could  as 
well  have  given  another  instead  of  Vivillo." 

"It's  like  him,"  I  said.  "Poor  Pilar!5' 

"She's  simply  ill.  But  queerly  enough,  she  hasn't  given  up 
hope  yet  —  or  hadn't  when  she  wrote,  and  enclosed  an  invitation- 
ticket  she'd  contrived  to  get  for  me.  She  begged  me  to  come  if  I 
could,  and  *  see  her  through,'  though  I  haven't  the  vaguest  notion 
what  she  means.  All  I  know  is,  she  and  the  Cherub  have  been 
doing  everything  they  could  till  the  last  minute  to  make  an  ex- 
change of  bulls.  The  dear  old  chap  rushed  off  to  Madrid,  as  I 
said,  to  stir  up  the  police  in  your  affair;  and  Pilar  hoped  she 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  347 

might  get  a  chance  to  see  Lady  Monica,  and  ask  what  the  dickens 
she  meant  by  throwing  you  over.  But  any  spare  time  the  two  had, 
I  guess  they've  put  in  for  Vivillo.  They  bought  a  fine  Muira  bull, 
at  a  tiptop  price,  and  offered  it  to  the  authorities  in  exchange  for 
Vivillo,  who  has  been  at  pasture  for  the  last  ten  days,  recruiting 
after  being  boxed  up  for  his  long  railroad  journey.  Whether 
Carmona  had  a  hand  in  that  part  or  not,  anyhow  nothing  could 
be  done." 

"And  Pilar  is  going  to  see  her  pet  die!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  can't  understand  the  Cherub  allowing  that,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
went  to  a  bull-fight  with  him  the  day  after  I  got  back  to  Seville. 
Jove,  it  was  a  sickener,  though  there  were  some  fine  moments, 
I  admit;  and  I  can  understand  how  Spaniards,  brought  up  to 
understand  every  stroke,  every  move,  think  it  fine  sport.  But  it 
isn't  sport  for  amateurs,  and  I  haven't  been  able  to  swallow  beef 
since;  feel  as  if  I'd  been  on  visiting  terms  with  it.  Last  touch  of 
horror,  each  bull  having  a  name.  Great  Scott !  how  would  it  feel 
to  be  as  intimate  as  that  with  sheep  and  chickens,  so  you  could 
speak  of  frying  Lottie  for  breakfast,  or  grilling  Maud  with  peas 
for  lunch  ?  Of  course,  the  royal  bull-fight  will  be  wonderful  — 
something  only  seen  when  a  Spanish  king  marries  —  but  I  hate 
the  thought  of  Pilar  being  there." 

"  Her  father'll  be  with  her,"  I  tried  to  console  him. 

"No,  he  won't.  His  seat's  in  a  box.  Hers  has  been  given  in 
Te~u*ido  Number  9,  a  space  set  apart  for  the  senoritas  de  la 
aristocracia  to  sit  together,  in  smart  dresses  and  mantillas,  as  if 
they  were  part  of  the  show. 

"  Perhaps  Monica  will  be  there,"  I  said  quickly. 

"  Not  she.  The  Duke  and  Duchv'ss  of  Carmona  and  the  Duke's 
fiancee  and  her  mother  will  be  in  a  box  next  the  royal  bride  and 
bridegroom ;  Pilar  heard  that,  and  wrote  me.  You  see,  they're  in 
high  favour  at  Court  now,  and  Carmona's  ambition  will  be  satis- 
fied at  last.  The  new  Duchess  is  to  be  a  lady-in-waiting,  and 
take  up  her  duties  when  the  King  and  Queen  come  back  from 
their  honeymoon. 


348  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  She  never  will  take  them  up  as  Duchess  of  Carmona,"  said  L 

"  Car  ready,"  announced  Ropes,  who  had  made  record  time  in 
changing  an  inner  tube,  and  was  panting  with  his  exertions, 

But  where  was  San  Cristobal  to-day  —  on  this  day  of  all  others, 
when  his  services  were  needed  ?  We  had  not  gone  half  a  mile 
when  there  came  a  whizz,  and  a  grinding  noise  which  meant  a 
broken  chain.  Ropes  grew  pale  and  bit  his  lip.  In  his  overpower- 
ing anxiety  for  me  he  was  losing  nerve. 

"  Never  mind  mending  it  here,"  I  said.  "  Tighten  up  the  axle, 
and  go  on  with  one  sprocket  only.  We  can  get  into  the  town  that 
way,  and  find  a  machine-shop." 

We  did  find  one;  but  we  were  kept  a  full  hour  in  Aranjuez;  nor 
could  we  make  good  going  afterwards  as  we  approached  the 
capital.  The  road  was  covered  with  vehicles,  and  packed  as  we 
neared  Madrid ;  for  every  soul  not  bidden  to  the  great  bull-fight 
wished  to  see  the  favoured  ones  who  were,  and  to  applaud  the 
King  and  Queen  who  by  their  splendid  courage  two  days  before 
had  won  double  popularity. 

It  was  almost  beyond  endurance  to  be  caught  in  the  pack,  and 
to  know  that  there  was  no  way  out,  except  to  move  with  the 
throng;  nevertheless,  it  had  to  be  endured.  And  time  went  on. 

We  had  hoped  to  run  into  some  hole  or  corner  as  near  as  might 
be  to  the  royal  entrance  of  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  before  the  crowd 
began  to  pour  in;  but  an  hour  struck  as  we  crept  into  the  great 
sunlit  plaza  —  four  o'clock;  the  time  appointed  for  the  pageant  to 
begin. 


XLI 
THE  FIFTH  BULL;  AND  AFTER 

HUNDREDS  —  thousands,  it  seemed  —  of  automo- 
biles and  carriages  were  before  us;  and  as  the  Glo- 
ria was  stopped  by  the  stopping  of  others  in  front, 
a  shout  rang  up  to  the  sky,  from  behind  the  high 
brown  walls  of  the  bull-ring.  It  was  the  welcome  which  the  pub- 
lic gave  their  King  and  his  bride  as  they  appeared  in  the  royal 
box. 

We  were  too  late  to  intercept  Carmona;  for  as  the  royalties 
had  taken  their  places,  he  was  certain  to  be  already  in  his,  with 
his  fiancee  by  his  side. 

Covered  with  dust,  burnt  by  the  sun  which  had  shone  hotly 
since  Manzanares,  all  but  spent  with  fatigue,  I  leaned  back  in 
my  seat.  For  a  moment  I  did  not  hear  what  Dick  was  saying, 
although  I  was  conscious  that  he  spoke;  but  suddenly  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words  broke  in  on  my  tired  brain. 

"It'll  be  two  hours  before  the  King  and  Queen  leave  their 
box  and  lesser  folks  can  move, "  he  said.  "  I'm  not  going  to  have 
you  sitting  here  in  the  heat  and  dust. " 

"  I  must  wait  till  they  come  out, "  I  answered  dully.  "  It's  the 
only  way." 

"No,  it  isn't.  I  told  you  Pilar'd  sent  me  a  ticket.  The  card 
says  'sombra,'  so  the  seat's  in  the  shade  all  right,  and  you're 
going  to  have  it. " 

"  But  you  ?  "  I  said.  "  Pilar  would  never  forgive  me  —  " 

"  She'd  never  forgive  me  if  I  didn't  hand  it  over  to  you.  But 
I'll  get  in  somehow.  It  can  cost  me  fifty  dollars  if  it  likes  to  slip 

349 


350  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

past  a  policeman,  but  I  guess  the  price  won't  stop  me.  I  don't 
mind  if  I  stand  up  in  the  callijon.  I'm  tall  enough  to  see  all  I 
want,  and  more;  and  if  a  bull  jumps  over  the  barrera,  as  one  did 
at  Seville  the  other  day,  my  legs  are  long  enough  to  save  me. " 

Ropes  was  to  stay  with  the  car  and  wait  until  we  came  again. 
Before  that  time  my  fate  would  be  decided.  Nothing  could  keep 
me  from  meeting  Monica  now;  and  nothing  should  keep  her 
from  me,  if  she  loved  me.  If  not  —  if  after  all  I  had  been  dream- 
ing, why,  she  would  be  the  Duchess  of  Carmona  to-morrow. 

Under  horses'  noses,  between  backs  and  bonnets  of  motors, 
we  edged  our  way  through  the  dense  crowd  of  vehicles  and 
people  massed  together  on  the  baking  plain  outside  the  bull- 
ring. The  circle  which  had  been  cleared  for  royalty  had  filled 
again  now,  like  a  sandbank  which  has  caved  in  upon  itself;  but 
the  spectacle  on  the  other  side  of  those  steep  brown  walls  had 
begun,  and  the  main  entrance  was  comparatively  clear. 

Armed  with  the  ticket  engraved  with  the  magic  words  "  Cor- 
rida Real "  over  a  black  and  white  sketch  of  a  mounted  picador, 
I  was  allowed  to  enter.  But  when  I  had  passed  along  a  corridor 
and  through  a  door  which  opened  into  a  crowded  tendido,  I 
heard  Dick's  voice  at  my  ear.  "Only  twenty-five  dollars  after 
all,"  said  he,  "and  I  can  sit  on  the  steps.  Grand!  We're  next 
to  Tendido  Number  9. 1  see  Pilar;  look  —  close  to  the  end,  front 
row. 

After  the  silent  rooms  of  the  old  Moorish  house  and  the  little 
patio  with  its  tinkling  fountain,  the  brilliant  light  and  colour, 
the  confused  sounds  and  movement,  the  vast  size  of  the  bull- 
ring struck  me  fiercely  between  the  eyes,  bewildering  sight  and 
sense. 

Seats  were  valuable  in  the  tendidos  for  this  great  day,  when 
almost  every  place  meant  a  royal  favour;  but  we  were  late,  and 
instead  of  moving  on  to  search  for  my  twelve  inches  of  plank  or 
stone,  I  was  thankful  to  squeeze  in  close  to  the  entrance.  I  did 
not  see  Colonel  O'Donnel,  and  though  I  was  close  to  the  famous 
Tendido  Number  9  (which  must  have  held  every  eye  till  the 


THE  FIFTH  BULL ;  AND  AFTER  351 

royalties  came),  I  forgot  to  look  for  Pilar  in  that  white-and-rose 
garden  of  Spanish  loveliness. 

The  first  act  of  the  great  royal  bull-fight  had  begun.  Twenty 
glittering,  spangled  espadas  marched  with  elastic  steps  into  the 
ring,  followed  by  the  yellow-trousered  picadors  on  their  sorry 
horses.  The  three  gala  coaches  carrying  the  distinguished 
amateur  picadors  and  their  ducal  patrons  who  graced  this 
marriage  feast,  still  circled  picturesquely  in  the  arena,  making 
a  pageant  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  sun  blazed  on  nodding 
ostrich  plumes,  gold  embroidered  hammercloths,  dazzling 
liveries,  powdered  heads,  and  splendid  horses  in  quaint  harness, 
rich  with  gold  and  jewels.  The  three  Dukes,  owners  of  the 
coaches,  had  introduced  the  cavaliers  they  patronized  to  the 
King-President;  the  bride-Queen  in  her  white  mantilla  and 
flowers  of  Spanish  colours  stood  bowing  in  the  glass  frame  of  the 
royal  box.  Gaily  decorated  palcos,  tendidos,  grados,  tier  upon 
tier,  half  in  sun,  half  in  shadow,  rose  above  the  huge  ring  like 
so  many  terraced  flower-beds,  dazzling  with  the  gold  lace  of 
uniforms  and  the  bright  tints  of  women's  dresses  softened  by 
white  mantillas.  Over  all  was  a  fluttering  of  fans,  like  thousands 
of  hovering  butterflies;  and  a  hum  floated  up  loud  as  the  hum- 
ming of  a  million  bees,  to  the  blue  dome  of  sky,  where  English 
and  Spanish  flags  waved  together. 

Mechanically  my  eyes  took  in  the  splendid  scene,  as  tney 
searched  for  Monica;  and  finding  her,  for  a  time  saw  nothing 
else. 

She  was  in  a  box  near  the  royalties,  and  sat  between  her 
mother  and  the  Duchess,  with  Carmona  and  some  man  whom  I 
did  not  know,  behind  them.  She  was  in  a  white  dress  and  white 
mantilla,  with  pink  and  white  malmaisons  in  her  hair;  and  her 
face  was  pathetically  pale  in  its  frame  of  falling  lace.  In  her 
hand  was  a  fan  with  which  to  shut  out  such  horrors  of  the  fight 
as  none  but  Spanish  women  born  and  bred  dare  trust  themselves 
to  see.  My  place  was  distant  and  far  below;  yet  my  eyes  were 
keen,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  looked  thin  and  frail,  though 


352  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

very  beautiful.  If  for  an  instant,  since  Dick  broke  the  news  to 
me,  I  had  doubted  the  loyalty  of  her  heart,  the  sight  of  her  sad 
young  face  would  have  driven  doubt  away.  I  was  more  than  ever 
certain  that  in  promising  to  marry  Carmona  she  thought  to  save 
me  from  punishment  threatened  by  him. 

Neither  he  nor  she  guessed  that  I  was  near.  But  where  did 
she  believe  me  to  be  ?  Perhaps  Carmona  had  said  that  for  her 
sake  he  had  let  me  fly  danger  after  stabbing  him  in  the  cathedral, 
by  hurrying  back  to  England. 

The  Duke  was  leaning  forward  to  speak  to  her.  She  did  not 
look  up  at  him,  but  let  her  eyes  listlessly  travel  over  the  vast 
audience.  I  thought  they  lingered  on  Tendido  Number  9,  draped 
with  flowered  shawls  of  Andalucia,  and  crowded  with  pretty 
women.  Suddenly  she  blushed,  and  turned  away.  I  looked  where 
she  had  looked,  and  knew  what  had  brought  the  blood  to  her 
cheeks.  Pilar,  in  rose  colour,  with  a  white  mantilla  and  the  ortho- 
dox malmaisons,  of  pink  and  crimson,  was  gazing  up  at  the 
Carmona  box,  an  imploring  expression  on  her  face.  Pilar,  too, 
was  pale  and  thin.  I  realized  more  and  more  that  nearly  six 
weeks  had  been  struck  out  of  my  life. 

Each  of  the  three  coaches  had  in  its  turn  stopped  under  the 
royal  box,  while  a  ducal  patron  presented  his  cavalier  to  the 
young  King  and  his  bride;  now,  the  ring  was  being  cleared  as 
the  magnificent  amateur  picadors  mounted  their  horses,  which 
had  been  led  round  by  squires  in  the  quaint  dress  of  1630.  One 
of  four  dignified  alguaziles  in  black  velvet  and  lace  doffed  his 
plumed  hat  to  the  King  as  President  of  the  fight,  asking  the  key 
of  the  bull's  cell.  Down  it  flashed,  while  the  music  stopped  as  if 
awed  into  silence,  and  the  alguazil  spurred  his  stallion  across 
the  arena  to  fling  into  the  montera  of  el  Bunolero,  janitor  of  the 
bull  cells,  the  key  he  had  received. 

"Vivillo  is  fifth  bull,"  I  said  to  myself,  repeating  Dick's 
words;  and  there,  too,  was  his  name  on  the  programme  of  the 
fight.  Pilar's  favourite  had  still  a  little  time  to  draw  the  breath 
of  life,  stamping  in  the  gloom  of  his  narrow  toril.  Not  yet  had 


THE  FIFTH  BULL ;  AND  AFTER  353 

that  untamed  neck  of  his  been  stung  by  the  resetted  dart  flaunting 
his  owner's  colours ;  and  much  was  to  happen  in  the  arena  before 
Vivillo's  brave  beauty  would  call  for  the  clapping  of  twice 
tmrteen  thousand  hands. 

First,  the  three  noble  amateurs,  with  their  long  sharp  javelins, 
must  each  in  turn  play  picador  with  grace  to  please  a  queen- 
bride,  and  save  his  horse's  sides  from  goring  horns.  Then,  when 
three  bulls  had  died  according  to  ancient,  chivalrous  custom  (if 
the  cavalier's  skill  served),  without  slaughter  of  horses,  the 
corrida  would  go  on  in  ordinary  Spanish  fashion  of  to-day,  with 
all  its  sensational  moments  and  its  tragedies,  until  —  Vivillo's 
time  came. 

As  for  me,  I  must  sit  until  the  leave-taking  of  the  royalties 
and  royal  guests  should  empty  also  the  Carmona  box.  I  won- 
dered, as  the  first  bull  rushed  into  the  ring,  whether  the  King 
and  Queen  would  still  be  in  their  places  when  the  door  should 
open  for  Vivillo,  or  whether  their  departure  would  rob  Carmona 
of  the  spectacle  of  his  mean  revenge.  I  hoped  it  would,  for  I 
could  not  bear  that  he  should  see  the  suffering  he  had  inflicted 
on  Filar  for  my  sake,  and  revel  in  it.  Still,  when  he  went  I  must 
go  too;  and  I  felt  vaguely  that  I  ought  to  be  near  Pilar  —  my 
loyal  sister  Pilar  —  during  the  act  which  would  be  tragical 
for  her. 

As  Dick  said,  there  were  brilliant  moments  in  the  bull-fight; 
and  the  amateurs  acquitted  themselves  in  a  way  to  deserve  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  crowd.  The  beautiful  young  Queen  threw  a 
jewel  to  each  torero  who  finished  a  bull  after  the  javelins  of  the 
cavaliers  had  done  their  work;  and  when  the  last  of  the  brave 
trio  had  bowed  himself  out  of  the  ring,  began  that  phase  of  the 
sport  which  Spaniards  know  and  love.  The  blindfolded  horses 
trotted  in,  ridden  by  professional  picadors  with  indifferent, 
sullen  faces;  and  then  a  stir  of  excitement  ran  from  tier  to  tier 
of  the  audience,  as  a  breeze  blows  over  a  wheat-field.  The  first 
part  had  been  but  a  pretty  play;  now  was  coming  the  real  thing, 
with  the  best  bulls,  and  the  best  espadas  of  Spain. 


354  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  bride  in  her  white  mantilla  looked  down  at  her  fan,  and 
counted  the  gilded  ivory  sticks,  when  the  first  bull  charged  the 
first  horse.  She,  the  Queen  of  Spain,  must  not  seem  to  flinch, 
though  her  English  eyes  had  never  seen  such  crimson  sights  as 
these.  This  was  the  national  sport;  she  must  learn  to  understand 
that  when  men  yelled,  and  even  women  cried  "  Buena  vara ! " 
it  was  not  with  joy  because  a  horse's  side  was  torn,  but  because 
a  picador  had  made  the  perfect  thrust.  She  must  seem  to  love 
what  the  people  loved,  if  she  wished  them  to  love  her;  but  not 
far  off  sat  another  young  girl  in  white,  who  had  no  such  com- 
pelling obligations. 

Monica,  warned  beforehand  perhaps,  when  she  was  forced 
to  come,  put  up  her  fan  whenever  a  bull  rushed  towards  a  horse, 
and  would  no  doubt  have  kept  it  there  had  not  her  mother 
spoken  to  her  more  than  once,  peremptorily.  As  for  Pilar,  though 
she  did  not  lift  her  fan,  she  seemed  to  see  nothing,  for  she  sat 
with  her  head  bowed,  only  starting  and  looking  up  when  the  horn 
sounded  for  a  new  bull. 

At  last  there  was  no  more  question  as  to  whether  the  King 
and  Queen  would  stay  to  see  Vivillo  play  his  part.  The  fourth 
bull  had  been  dragged  away  dead  by  the  team  of  tasselled  mules, 
and  the  piercing  blast,  which  had  grown  to  sound  tragic  in  my 
ears,  summoned  Vivillo,  all  unknowing,  to  his  fate.  And  the 
royalties  kept  their  seats,  though  the  afternoon  waned,  and 
shadow  —  like  the  creeping  shadow  of  death  —  darkened  two- 
thirds  of  the  arena. 

So  keen  was  my  sympathy  with  Pilar  that  I  felt  my  throat 
contract  and  my  mouth  go  dry.  So  must  it  be  with  her  at  this 
moment  which  called  her  brave  favourite  to  his  death;  so,  like 
mine,  only  faster  and  more  thickly,  must  her  heart  be  beating. 

Could  she,  after  all,  bear  the  ordeal  ?  Would  she  not  turn  and 
hurry  out  before  the  first  picador  drew  the  blood  she  had  tried 
so  hard  to  save?  But  no;  she  sat  still,  her  eyes  large,  her  face 
blanched,  and  one  hand  twisted  in  the  folds  of  her  lace  mantilla 
as  it  rose  and  fell  on  her  breast. 


THE  FIFTH  BULL  ;  AND  AFTER  355 

Before  the  dead  was  well  out  of  the  ring,  and  his  red  track 
sanded,  the  door  of  the  toril  was  thrown  open  for  the  fifth  bull, 
said  never  to  be  a  coward.  It  was  a  compliment  to  Carmona  and 
to  Vivillo  to  be  chosen  for  this  position  on  the  programme, 
since  it  has  become  a  proverb  that  the  pick  of  the  corrida  should 
be  fifth  on  the  list.  It  was  also  a  compliment  to  Carmona  that 
the  King  should  wait  to  see  how  his  Vivillo  would  die. 

The  bunolero  sprang  back  as  he  opened  the  door,  retiring 
more  hastily  than  was  his  wont  into  the  space  between  the  bar- 
riers out  of  the  bull's  way.  It  was  as  if  he,  too,  expected  the  new- 
comer to  be  something  beyond  the  ordinary  in  ferocity  or  cun- 
ning; for  Carmona's  bulls,  like  those  of  the  Muira  breed,  are 
famed  for  their  terrible  habit  of  ignoring  the  cloak  and  charging 
at  the  body  of  the  man  who  holds  it. 

Some  bulls  had  rushed  into  the  arena  and  blindly  attacked 
the  first  object  which  came  within  their  dazed  vision;  but  my 
heart  had  time  to  beat  twice  before  that  noble  form,  which  I  had 
last  seen  in  peaceful  pasture,  deigned  to  show  itself  at  the  dark 
exit  of  the  toril. 

It  was  as  if  Vivillo  wished  to  prove  how  he  scorned  the  puny 
prick  of  that  fish-hook  dart  hidden  by  a  rosette  of  green  and 
purple  ribbon,  supreme  indifference  to  the  strange  scene  which 
burst  upon  eyes  accustomed  for  long  to  darkness,  and  haughty 
superiority  to  thirst  and  hunger  which  irritated  weaker  animals 
to  frenzy.  No  one,  seeing  the  great  bull  stand  with  his  head  up, 
questioning,  surprised,  could  have  mistaken  his  attitude  for 
cowardice.  There  was  something  ominous,  even  terrible,  in 
his  pause;  and  it  gave  the  waiting  audience  time  to  appreciate 
the  magnificence  of  his  proportions,  the  length  and  dagger- 
keenness  of  his  horns,  the  rippling  of  the  muscles  under  the 
brown  satin  of  his  skin,  in  the  great  chest  and  lean  flanks. 

"  This  is  not  a  bull, —  it  is  a  mountain, "  shouted  a  voice;  and 
other  voices  praised  Vivillo's  perfections,  so  soon  to  vanish  off 
the  earth.  "  Grandly  armed ! "  "  He  would  face  a  battalion ! " 
"Let  Fuentes  look  out  for  himself!" 


356  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

For  Fuentes,  best  espada  left  in  Spain,  bravest  fighter  of  bulls 
according  to  the  classic  methods,  was  to  give  Vivillo  the  death 
stroke,  when  picadores  and  banderilleros  had  done  with  him. 

The  yells  of  the  vast  multitude  in  an  instant  changed  the 
bull's  proud  astonishment  to  fury.  He  seemed  to  realize  that 
this  new  world,  so  different  from  the  old  sweet,  green  one,  was 
a  world  of  enemies,  every  soul  against  him,  and  he  was  ready 
to  fight  them  all  to  the  death.  He  neither  pawed  the  sand  nor 
bellowed,  for  these  are  puerile  betrayals  of  temper  to  which  the 
noblest  bulls  do  not  descend.  Like  a  tornado  he  swept  across 
the  ring,  killed  a  horse  with  a  single  thrust,  sent  the  picador 
crashing  against  the  barrera;  and  quick  as  a  wild  cat,  strong  as 
an  African  lion,  wheeled  to  lift  another  animal  and  its  rider  on 
his  horns.  Half  the  length  of  the  arena  he  trotted,  upholding 
both,  whilst  the  audience  rose  to  him  and  yelled  admiration  of 
his  savage  strength. 

"This  is  like  the  good  old  days.  You  don't  see  such  a  bull  in 
ten  thousand, "  men  said  to  each  other,  as  Vivillo  flung  the  dead 
horse  on  the  sand,  tumbling  the  picador  over  the  barrera  into  the 
callijon,  and  raced  off  gamely  to  a  third  duel. 

When  he  had  killed  three  horses  (knowing  no  distinction 
between  their  innocence  and  man's  cruelty,  after  his  shoulders 
had  felt  the  lance)  he  was  apparently  as  fresh  as  when  he  left 
the  toril.  At  this  stage  of  the  death  drama  most  bulls  would  be 
breathing  hard;  but  though  the  brown  velvet  of  Vivillo's  neck 
was  stained  dark  crimson,  neither  fatigue  nor  pain  made  his 
strong  heart  labour. 

More  horses  were  given  him,  to  die  as  others  had  died,  all 
save  one,  which  the  bull  refused  to  touch  because  it  was  of  the 
colour  he  knew  and  was  friendly  with  at  home.  It  was  led  at 
last  unscathed ;  but  Vivillo  had  now  six  horses  to  his  credit,  and 
his  popularity  with  the  audience  had  already  risen  far  beyond 
that  of  his  predecessors.  Still,  his  activity,  instead  of  diminishing, 
seemed  to  grow  with  the  rising  fever  of  his  fury. 

In  ordinary  cases  the  trumpet  would  now  have  rounded  for 


THE  FIFTH  BULL ;  AND  AFTER  357 

the  second  act,  dismissing  the  picadors  and  summoning  the 
banderilleros ;  but  Vivillo  in  his  present  condition  was  too  formid- 
able a  foe  to  be  teased  by  the  bravest  with  barbed,  beribboned 
darts ;  and  "  Caballos  —  caballos  !  "  was  the  cry. 

Four  more  sacrificial  beasts  were  brought,  and  he  dealt  with 
all,  so  nearly  goring  one  picador  that  an  espada,  dashing  to  the 
rescue,  was  raced  to  the  barrier,  and  had  his  stocking  crimsoned 
as  he  vaulted  over  it. 

Vivillo's  list  of  victims  had  now  swelled  to  ten,  and  though 
he  had  accepted  thirty-three  varas,  or  thrusts  of  the  lance,  his 
great  shoulders  scarcely  shuddered  under  the  red  rain  of  his 
blood.  Still,  the  first  act  could  not  be  further  prolonged.  The 
sharp,  cruel  blast  of  the  cornet  gave  the  signal  for  the  second  to 
begin. 

Dick  and  I  had  not  spoken,  and  I  dared  not  look  towards 
Pilar.  As  the  crowd  shouted  an  imperious  demand  for  the  great 
Fuentes  to  come  into  the  ring  as  banderillero,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  centuries  were  swept  away  by  their  wild  voices;  that  this 
was  not  the  bull-ring  of  Madrid,  but  the  Coliseum  of  Rome. 

Vivillo  waited,  his  head  up,  undaunted;  and  though  his  face 
and  attitude  were  menacing,  the  brown  eyes,  set  wide  apart, 
were  radiantly  innocent.  He  seemed  a  creature  made  up  of 
nature's  best,  a  product  of  blue  sky,  sweet  meadow,  and  pure 
air;  of  his  kind,  perfection.  Did  he  think  now  of  his  old  home  in 
the  rich  pasture-land,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  friendly  cabestros' 
bells  ?  If  he  did,  the  home-sick  thought  did  not  make  him  fear 
to  face  what  was  to  come.  Never  once  had  he  followed  the 
example  of  two  or  three  among  his  predecessors,  and  turned  to- 
wards the  shut  door  of  the  toril  as  if  for  refuge.  Always  he  had 
faced  the  enemy;  and  now  he  rushed  to  play  with  his  horns  for 
the  glittering  banderillas  which  waited  for  his  shoulders. 

Fuentes  was  consenting  to  the  wish  of  the  public,  but  two 
ordinary  banderilleros  were  to  precede  him.  The  famous  matador, 
who  was  afterwards  to  kill  this  most  popular  bull  of  the  day, 
would  plant  the  last  pair  of  the  six. 


358  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

The  first  man,  sparkling  in  satin  and  silver,  lifted  on  high  his 
two  barb-tipped  sticks,  gaily  ornamented  with  tinsel  paper,  and 
called  Vivillo  from  a  distance.  His  mocking  voice  infuriated  the 
bull,  who  rushed  upon  him;  then,  as  he  swayed  lightly  aside, 
it  was  all  he  could  do  to  save  himself  from  the  great  animal's 
sudden,  swift  turn,  without  placing  either  of  his  banderillas. 
Again  and  again  the  play  was  repeated,  but  the  audience  were 
saying  that  Vivillo  was  becoming  crafty  as  Shylock.  At  last  one 
gay-coloured  stick  —  "  half  a  pair " —  hung  from  Vivillo's 
shoulders;  twice  and  three  times  the  attempt  was  made  before 
the  "pair"  was  complete;  and  the  second  banderillero  succeeded 
no  better.  But  as  Fuentes  entered  the  ring,  condescending  to 
play  at  the  game  of  which  he  was  once  master,  there  went  up  a 
roar  of  applause.  Fuentes  never  failed ;  and  that  trick  of  his  — 
planting  both  feet  on  a  handkerchief,  nor  deigning  to  move 
save  for  a  swaying  of  the  body  while  planting  the  two  barbs  — 
was  famous,  a  sight  worth  seeing  when  the  bull  was  even  half 
as  good  as  this.  But  for  once  even  Fuentes'  brilliant  tactics  were 
at  a  loss.  Vivillo  had  brains,  and  used  them.  He  used  his  eyes, 
too,  before  charging,  which  not  one  out  of  five  hundred  bulls 
can  do;  and  if  Fuentes  played  with  him,  he  played  also,  a  game 
whose  zest  came  from  a  hint  of  pressing  danger.  Once  it  seemed 
that  Vivillo  would  be  over  the  barrera,  in  the  callijon,  and  there 
was  a  stampede  of  all  the  onlookers  there.  Again  he  threatened 
to  demolish  the  wooden  barrier  with  his  horns,  and  there  was  a 
wilder  scramble  than  before.  But  the  banderillas  were  planted 
at  last,  and  the  blood  on  Vivillo's  brown  shoulders  lay  like  a 
crimson  cloak.  The  great  round  of  applause  was  as  much  for 
the  bull  as  for  the  banderillero  ;  and  every  face  in  the  audience 
was  tense  with  excitement  as  the  horn  sounded  for  the  death 
scene.  With  such  a  king  of  the  arena  anything  might  happen. 
It  was  well  that  a  master  like  Fuentes  was  the  espada  who  would 
deal  with  him,  or  he  might  deal  with  the  espada. 

And  so  it  was  to  end  in  the  usual  tragedy,  and  after  a  few  more 
brilliant  moments  of  play  the  brave  heart  of  the  beast  must  feel 


THE  FIFTH  BULL  ;  AND  AFTER  359 

the  sword.  I  had  known,  of  course,  that  it  must  be  so,  and  yet 
until  now  it  had  not  seemed  a  cold  certainty.  Perhaps  I  had 
vaguely  hoped  that  Vivillo  would  vault  the  barrera,  and  refuse 
to  be  coaxed  back  again;  but,  even  if  he  had,  he  could  not  have 
saved  himself,  and  might  have  had  to  die  some  death  less  glorious 
than  by  the  espadas  blade. 

Fuentes  was  bowing  under  the  royal  box,  asking  the  King- 
President's  gracious  permission  to  kill  Vivillo  as  so  noble  a  bull 
should  be  killed.  Then,  sword  and  red  muleta  in  hand,  he  went 
to  meet  Vivillo,  an  alert  look  on  his  face;  for  this  was  no  common 
res,  but  a  brave  and  wary  foeman,  most  worthy  of  his  steel. 

The  deep  silence  of  the  thirteen  thousand  spectators  was  as 
great  a  compliment  as  could  be  paid  to  man  or  bull,  and  Fuentes 
knew  it.  He  knew  that  the  audience  expected  such  play,  before 
the  death  stroke,  as  had  not  been  seen  in  Spain  for  years,  and 
he  did  not  mean  to  disappoint  them.  Still  marvellously  fresh, 
considering  his  doughty  feats  and  loss  of  blood,  Vivillo  showed 
no  distress.  But  he  had  become  visibly  thoughtful,  as  if  realizing 
at  last  that  this  was  no  wild  sport,  but  the  end  of  all  things. 

Fuentes  waved  off  his  men  —  "  fuera  gente,"  knowing  that 
this  sign  of  serene  courage  would  thrill  thirteen  thousand  hearts, 
already  warm  for  him,  and  adjusted  his  red  muleta  to  the  small, 
spiked  stick  which  secured  it.  Then,  graceful  as  a  wave  which 
lears  its  crest  to  breaking-point,  he  moved  towards  the  bull, 
wary  yet  defiant. 

Vivillo,  as  if  to  prove  the  power  and  fulness  of  his  lungs, 
bellowed  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  entered  the  arena,  as  he 
hurled  his  dark  body  upon  the  torero,  his  huge  head  down.  The 
muleta  met  his  horns  and  smothered  them,  to  be  swept  up  and 
away,  while  Fuentes  stood  motionless,  smiling.  But  to  the  agita- 
tion of  the  audience,  instead  of  following  the  muleta  s  scarlet 
wave,  Vivillo  halted  with  horns  lowered  to  gore,  and  charged 
the  man. 

Lightly  Fuentes  stepped  aside,  tempting  the  bull  again  with 
the  muleta  ;  but  Vivillo  would  have  none  of  it.  Then  came  such 


360  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

give  and  take  between  man's  skill  and  brute's  ferocious  cunning 
that  the  audience  lost  all  self-consciousness  in  watching. 

Nearer  and  nearer  Fuentes  and  Vivillo  drew  to  the  barrier. 
Now  they  were  close  to  Tendido  Number  9,  and  mechanically 
I  lifted  my  eyes  from  the  arena  to  find  Filar.  She  was  no  longer 
to  be  seen  there,  and  I  thought  that  she  had  fled  before  the 
death.  But  as  Vivillo  made  a  lunge  which  all  but  caught  Fuentes, 
a  door  in  the  barrier  flashed  open,  flashed  shut,  and  a  girl  stood 
in  the  ring. 

It  was  Filar  in  her  white  dress  and  lace  mantilla.  She  had  left 
her  seat,  gone  down  alone  to  the  entrance  of  the  tendido,  had 
waited  her  chance,  and  slipped  into  the  arena.  But  she  could 
hide  no  longer.  At  sight  of  the  girl's  figure,  white  against  the 
dark  red  barrier,  a  wild,  warning  shout  went  up.  Two  or  three 
of  Fuentes'  cuadrillo  ran  towards  her,  but  with  a  passionate  ges- 
ture she  motioned  them  off,  holding  out  her  arms  to  the  royal 
box. 

"Pardon,  pardon  for  Vivillo,  the  brave  bull!"  she  cried.  And 
I  knew  now  that  this  was  what  she  had  meant  from  the  first. 
If  Vivillo  were  brave,  if  he  won  the  respect  of  the  King  and  the 
crowd  by  supreme  strength  and  courage,  she  had  hoped  to  save 
him  as  other  bulls  had  been  saved  from  time  to  time,  since,  in 
earliest  days,  Spain  had  followed  Roman  customs.  I  had  read 
of  those  pardoned  bulls  and  heard  of  them  from  my  father  —  one 
hero,  may  be,  in  ten  years.  For  this  she  had  come;  for  this  she 
had  sat  watching  Vivillo's  blood  flow,  waiting  until  he  had 
proved  himself  so  brave  that  thirteen  thousand  voices  might 
join  hers  in  asking  the  bull's  life  of  the  King-President. 

At  sound  of  his  name,  cried  in  those  dear,  familiar  tones  as  if 
calling  him  from  across  the  valley  of  death,  Vivillo  raised  his 
head,  turned  his  back  for  the  first  time  upon  the  enemy,  and 
bounded  towards  the  girl.  Horrified,  the  audience  shrieked  at 
her,  at  him,  waving  their  hands,  throwing  hats  into  the  ring  in 
front  of  the  bull  as  if  to  distract  him  from  a  helpless  victim.  But 
they  need  not  have  feared.  His  sides  heaving  under  their  mantle 


IT    WAS    THE    CALT,    OF    LIFE,    AND 


:      \NS\VI.KKH     IT      WITH      C  It  \TI  T  I    I  >  I ' 


THE  FIFTH  BULL ;  AND  AFTER  361 

of  blood,  Vivillo's  rush  subsided  to  a  trot,  as  in  the  home-pasture 
far  away.  Half -blinded  with  fury  as  he  had  been  a  moment  ago, 
the  kind  young  face  and  voice  loved  by  him  since  he  was  a  calf 
at  his  mother's  side  brought  Vivillo  back  to  himself.  Hope  must 
have  quickened  in  his  heart  as  he  heard  that  call,  which  in  old 
days  had  meant  choice  food  and  sweet  caresses.  It  was  the  call 
of  life,  and  he  answered  it  with  gratitude. 

How  the  men  yelled,  and  the  women  laughed  and  cried  as  the 
great  bull  laid  his  armed  head  against  the  pale  girl's  arm !  How 
they  clapped  when  he  ate  something  which  she  held  to  him  in 
her  hand,  and  how  they  shouted  to  the  King  —  "  Pardon  —  par- 
don for  this  brave  bull.  Pardon  for  El  Vivillo!" 

Dick  was  at  her  side  now.  He  must  have  leaped  the  barrier; 
but  I  did  not  see  him  until  he  was  there,  and  the  Cherub  close 
behind  him.  Fuentes  was  under  the  royal  box,  asking  if  the 
prayer  for  the  bull's  life  were  to  be  heard;  and,  amid  tumultuous 
cheering,  pardon  was  granted,  with  the  jewel  he  should  have  won 
by  giving  Vivillo  death  instead  of  life.  The  bull  was  saved. 
Panting,  he  stood  by  Pilar's  side,  his  blood  staining  the  creamy 
whiteness  of  her  mantilla.  Even  when  the  tame  cabestro  came, 
with  tinkling  bell,  to  entice  Vivillo  away,  she  could  hardly  bear 
to  leave  him,  though  she  well  knew  that  he  was  safe;  that  his 
wounds  would  be  skilfully  tended;  that  he  would  be  restored 
to  health,  and  that,  in  very  shame  (when  the  story  was  made 
known),  Carmona  must  surrender  the  bull  to  her. 

But  the  King  and  Queen  were  on  their  feet  bowing  to  the 
crowd,  their  relatives  and  guests  standing  behind  them.  The 
Queen  turned  and  murmured  to  the  King,  who  spoke  to  someone 
I  could  not  see,  and  an  equerry  hurried  out  of  the  box.  A  moment 
later  the  Duke  of  Carmona,  his  mother,  Lady  Vale- A  von,  and 
Monica  were  entering  the  royal  box.  Evidently  the  Queen's 
wish  had  been  to  make  some  introduction.  All  chatted  together 
for  a  minute,  looking  down  at  the  ring,  which  Vivillo  was  just 
leaving  with  the  big,  brindled  cabestro.  Probably  the  King  was 
congratulating  Carmona  on  the  bull  given  by  him  to  the  Corrida 


362  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

Real.  Then,  having  bowed  once  more  to  their  enthusiastic 
subjects,  the  royalties  prepared  to  leave  the  box  before  the  next 
bull  should  come  into  the  ring. 

I  knew  that  Monica,  with  Cannona  and  the  others,  would 
follow  in  the  train  of  the  King  and  Queen,  that  they  would  go 
out  at  the  royal  entrance,  and  that  I  must  be  near  if  I  would  have 
my  last  chance  with  the  girl.  But  it  was  a  misfortune  that  she 
should  be  with  the  royalties,  because,  since  the  catastrophe 
of  two  days  ago,  the  police  of  Madrid  were  taking  extra  precau- 
tions for  the  safety  of  their  sovereign  and  his  bride.  The  ground 
outside  the  royal  entrance  had  been  kept  clear  of  the  populace 
when  they  went  in,  and  would  be  again  when  they  went  out.  A 
haggard,  hollow-eyed  wretch  such  as  I  was  now  would  be  instant- 
ly suspected  and  ordered  back. 

Yet  Monica  was  to  be  married  to-morrow,  and  then  it  would 
be  for  ever  too  late.  Somehow  I  must  get  close  enough  to  speak 
with  her,  even  if  the  words  I  had  to  say  were  cut  short  by  a  bullet. 

Many  people  were  leaving,  though  more  than  half  the  audience 
remained,  and  I  had  to  fight  my  way  through  a  crowd  that  had 
not  my  reasons  for  haste.  Perhaps  a  look  at  my  face  made  them 
give  me  room,  for  sooner  than  I  dared  hope  I  was  out  of  the  bull- 
ring, and  pushing  through  the  dense  pack  of  people  who  had 
assembled  to  see  the  royalties  and  their  guests  drive  away.  I 
had  reached  the  outside  rank,  when  I  saw  Carmona's  automobile 
coming  into  place  behind  the  royal  carriages  and  motor-cars. 
Someone  had  been  sent  to  fetch  it  here  from  the  other  entrance; 
and  the  Duke  of  Carmona  would  be  a  figure  of  importance  in 
the  eyes  of  all  Madrid. 

Civil  guards  and  police  were  busy  keeping  the  crowd  in 
order,  with  warning  gestures  pressing  rank  upon  rank  back 
upon  one  another. 

I  made  no  effort  to  separate  myself  from  the  mass,  for  neither 
the  King  nor  Queen  nor  Carmona  had  yet  come  in  sight;  and  I 
was  waiting.  But  suddenly  shouts  of  "  Viva  el  Rey  —  Viva  la 
Reina  I "  broke  out  and  swelled. 


THE  FIFTH  BULL  ;  AND  AFfER  363 

They  were  coming.  Now  they  were  at  the  door.  I  caught  sight 
of  Carmona,  exceedingly  handsome  in  the  joy  of  his  great 
triumph.  The  King  paused  at  the  door,  and,  seeing  Carmona  near 
by,  flung  him  a  kindly  last  word,  with  a  smile.  Carmona  stepped 
forward,  hat  in  hand.  Monica,  with  her  mother  and  the  Duchess, 
came  to  a  stop  close  behind. 

My  moment  had  come.  I  sprang  out  from  the  crowd,  and  had 
taken  three  steps  towards  her,  when  two  civil  guards  had 
me  by  the  shoulders.  At  the  same  instant  I  heard  Dick's  voice, 
and  knew  that  he  had  found  his  way  after  me,  true  as  always, 
guessing  what  I  would  try  to  do. 

The  sudden  movement  and  buzz  in  the  group  round  me 
caught  Monica's  attention.  She  looked,  and  gave  a  little  cry 
as  our  eyes  met  across  the  sunlit,  open  space.  Out  came  her 
hands,  and  for  an  instant  I  thought  she  would  have  run  to  me; 
but  her  mother's  quick  eyes  had  identified  the  man  between  the 
civil  guards,  and  she  seized  Monica  by  the  arm. 

"  Get  back, "  said  one  of  the  civil  guards  angrily.  "  No  one  is 
allowed  to  go  nearer  to  the  King.  " 

"I  must  speak  to  those  ladies,"  I  said,  shaking  one  shoulder 
free. 

"Another  step,  and  you'll  spend  your  night  between  prison 
walls, "  muttered  the  guard,  furious  that  there  should  be  a  scene 
under  the  eyes  of  royalty. 

But  now  the  eyes  of  royalty  were  upon  me,  and  there  was 
recognition  in  them.  The  King  held  up  his  hand  imperatively. 

"  Let  that  gentleman  go, "  he  said.  "  He  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
Senores,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again.  Have  you  come  to  congratu- 
late me  on  my  marriage  ?  " 

The  guards  stepped  back;  and  the  King's  question  was  a 
command.  He  said  "Sehores";  therefore  he  was  speaking  to 
Dick  as  well  as  to  me.  I  walked  towards  him  as  he  stood  ready 
to  greet  us;  and  now  Dick,  who  had  kept  behind  in  the  crowd, 
was  at  my  side. 

Carmona's  face  grew  scarlet,  then  yellow-pale. 


364  THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

"  I  beg  your  Majesty's  forgiveness, "  he  said,  "  but  you  cannot 
know  what  I  know  of  this  man,  or  you  would  not  receive  him. 
This  may  be  another  horrible  plot;  for  he  is  the  Marques  de 
Casa  Triana,  suspected  of  throwing  a  bomb  in  Barcelona  some 
years  ago,  who  not  only  has  broken  his  parole  and  come  secretly 
to  Spain,  but  has  been  following  you  about  from  place  to  place 
in  his  motor-car,  and  —  " 

The  King  burst  out  laughing,  in  his  boyish  way. 

"All  the  better  for  me  if  he  has,  since  he  has  continually 
found  the  way  to  do  me  some  good  turn.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him 
and  his  motor-car  I'm  not  sure  that  I  would  be  here  —  and  happy 
—  to-day. "  He  held  out  his  hand  to  me.  "  So  you  are  the  Marques 
de  Casa  Triana,"  he  said.  "And  that  was  why  you  wouldn't 
tell  me  your  name,  when  your  friend  let  me  know  I  had  one 
more  thing  to  thank  you  for  besides  those  I  knew  —  on  the  day 
of  the  brigands  ?  " 

He  smiled  at  Dick,  who  presumed  on  his  notice. 

"  Your  Majesty, "  he  ventured,  "  may  I  mention  the  name  of 
the  man  who  employed  those  brigands,  not  to  injure  you,  but 
one  he  had  already  injured  —  Casa  Triana  himself  ?  Well,  it's 
the  Duke  of  Carmona;  and  when  the  brigands  failed,  he  tried 
having  Casa  Triana  knocked  on  the  head  and  shut  up  in  a  house 
of  his  at  Granada,  so  that  he  could  marry  the  girl  who  was 
engaged  to  my  friend.  You  can  ask  Lady  Monica  Vale,  sir,  if 
I'm  not  telling  you  the  truth  —  as  far  as  she  knows  it.  " 

The  King,  without  answering,  turned  his  eyes  on  Monica. 

"It  is  true,  sir,  that  we  were  engaged,"  she  replied  to  the 
question  in  his  look.  "  I  love  him  still,  and  only  promised  to  marry 
the  Duke  because  he  said,  if  I  did,  he  would  save  Ramon  from 
imprisonment  —  and  worse.  He  told  me  he  had  helped  Ramon 
to  get  out  of  Spain  to  England,  when  he  was  on  the  point  of 
being  arrested  for  —  something  that  happened  in  Seville.  Now 
I  know  it  wasn't  true; — that  he  —  lied,  and  that  he's  been 
horribly  treacherous  to  Ramon,  as  well  as  to  me.  I'll  not  keep 
my  promise  to  him  to-morrow,  or  ever.  " 


THE  FIFTH  BULL  ;  AND  AFTER  365 

"  This  seems  a  strange  story, "  said  the  King.  "  I  must  hear 
it  at  length,  later.  But  you  shall  not  marry  against  your  wish. 
You  shall  marry  the  man  you  love ;  we  will  see  to  that,  whether 
Carmona  can  clear  himself  or  not.  As  for  my  friend  Casa  Triana, 
I  owe  him  a  triple  debt.  Part  of  it  I  can  repay  by  giving  him 
certain  estates  in  the  South  which  I  believe  I've  been  —  keeping 
in  trust  for  him.  Part  I  can  never  repay;  and  part  —  well,  if  I 
can  give  him  a  bride  who  loves  him,  perhaps  he  will  consider 
himself  repaid?" 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty  a  thousand  times, "  I  said. 

Monica  looked  at  me.  She  was  very  pale;  but  there  was  heaven 
in  her  eyes. 

"Viva  el  Rey  !"  shouted  Dick;  and  the  crowd,  though  they 
had  not  heard  or  understood  what  passed,  took  up  the  cry  with 
all  their  hearts  — 

u  Viva  el 


THE  END 


THE   MOCLCBE   r«**«,    MMW    YOEE 


Y 


- 


